


Who We Want To Be

by NeverEnoughCats



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Crack and Angst, Distrust, Drama, Floating whale douche, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Daud, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Low Chaos Daud, Low to High Chaos Corvo, M/M, Possession, Progressively gets darker, Rats, Sass, Slow Build, Unresolved Sexual Tension, What-If, Witchcraft, a raven - Freeform, crack scattered here and there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 83,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverEnoughCats/pseuds/NeverEnoughCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one commits horrible deeds and sacrifices to save another beloved, actions sealing the fate of others and dooming them, all for one person, does this make him a hero or a monster?</p><p>Or is he only human?</p><p>AU where Emily dies and Corvo becomes a witch to bring her back—no matter what the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The night the Outsider came to him in his cell, Corvo readily embraced its gift.

He left Coldridge like a silent ghost, moving through reality with a single Blink past guards unnoticed and behind those he choked out. Warm and snoring bodies littered his path behind. They were not worth staining his hands.

No, for the idea of having Emily, still alive and wailing for him and her mother in his mind's eye, back in his arms once more fueled his actions. He could not waste any time on those men, although he did promise himself to make the new Lord Regent pay.  
Corvo took to the sewers where the rats whispered to him, of hidden places and a path to safety.

 _'Further down, follow the pipes. Come with us.'_  they called to him from his place on a ledge, away from their snapping fangs and hungry red eyes. Grey, black and bits of white fur swarmed below him while Corvo tried to rest, wet clothes chilling him to the bone as their high-pitched whispers continued,  _'Come down, Lord Protector. Come to your Emily.'_

In the end he followed them, sticking to the pipes and handlebars even as they hissed and crowded under him. The path Corvo took led him out on Endoria Street and he breathed. The night air, while cold and heavy with the scent of streets, dirt and garbage and a hint of death, was still fresher than the sewer air and Corvo felt his steps lighten as he ducked into a dark alleyway.

He didn't recognize the road until finding a map, the Distillery District to Wrenhaven River on its far left, houses clustered with rubbish and junk all around. Corvo felt the back of his left hand burn as he blinked harder than teleporting would need, and opened his eyes to a world of odd orange, yellow rats sniffing at his boots and two figures in the distance. If he were able to see himself in a mirror, Corvo would had suffered a mini heart attack at the sight of his own blacken eyes staring back.

Taken aback by the sudden change of vision, Corvo stumbled a few steps against a wall, ripples echoing under his feet and it clicked—Dark Vision. Corvo looked around for guards, finding two blurry dark shapes further down the street behind him when he blinked again and the world became dark and rightly colored. He rubbed his eyelids, feeling a slight burn behind them before shaking his head to brush it off.

Corvo stepped out of the dark and made his way over to the two life forms he had seen. Civilians, judging from their clothes and figure, talking. He climbed up a pipe and spotted a balcony overhead, quietly maneuvering over to it when he caught the tail end of their hushed voices.

"-'s kid? The one who went missing months back?"

His hand nearly slipped and Corvo lunged at the railing, gasping as he clambered up onto stable metal. Corvo gave a quick glance behind him at the room, before leaning against the railing with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.  
"Yeah, they found her. Can't believe it either. I heard rumors, but for them to just suddenly find her in a puddle of her own blood just like that? Poor girl, so young too."

He stopped breathing, eyes wide and feeling numb as confusion and cold horror gripped him tightly and slowly.

"Shame. Now they're saying she was kept in some rich noble's place or sumthing. But then she got out and there were flowers when she died."

"Of course there were flowers, idiot. She even if she wasn't gonna be the Empress, she was her kid."

"No, no. I mean like, fucking blooming from her blood and body. My sister knows this servant who works for those ratshit Pendleton's and she says that flowers appeared on the girl's body when they found her. Never saw the culprit though."

  
"Who knows, could be that damn Corvo. Fucking Serk, already killed the Empress—bless her—so what's a little kid to him?"

The two continued to talk, but Corvo wasn't listening. He didn't even move as they walked away out into the street, his brain trying to process and understand. He could barely hear his heavy gasps for air over the loud beating of drums in his ears as his knees turned weak.

_...No._

"Em-" His voice was thick as he slowly looked down at his hands. He could see her clearly in his mind's eye, so small and shaking in fear for someone to help her. See her laying in a pool of red, just like Jessamine on that fateful day and he hear her crying for him to save her-

They lied.

Rage bit and clawed at his chest alongside dread and fear, like a hurricane inside ripping and tearing his heart out. Corvo threw himself down from the balcony and Blinked right in front of them. He landed heavily but it didn't matter. Not a sound left him as he ripped out the stolen sword, snagging one of the men by the collar. They both cried out, the skinny man in his grasp falling to his knees while the other tried to run pass him. Corvo whipped out the gun and shot the other man in the leg, ignoring the screams as he shoved the first man down next to his friend.

"You lie," hissed Corvo as he held the blade to the skinny man's neck, the man letting out a stream of pleads and apologies as he struggled and yanked at the hand on his collar. A thin line of red colored the flesh and Corvo snarled in his face, voice breaking just the slightest at the last bit. "She's not dead. She can't be."

"I-I don't know anything! It's just rumors, I swear! H-he's the one who knows!" the man blurted with a finger pointing shakily at his friend, who in turn looked at him with a horrified look.

The former Lord Protector felt the bone-grinding urge to slide the sharp metal against the coward's throat but dropped him in favor for the wounded man. He stepped over him and yanked him up by the shirt, holding the sword to his eye as the other scrambled away into an alleyway. Corvo let him, having seen it was a dead-end from above and focused his attention back on his target. "Talk."

"Please don't hurt me! My s-sister's working for Brisby and she loves to gossip, she knows this lad under the Pendletons who was one of the servants they had to clean up the mess! They say it happened a few days back when they brought back a little girl, kept her locked in a room upstairs 'cause she did something and were gonna bring her to the Cat when they found her dead outside on the stairs bleeding out. And t-there were flowers, the guy swears to the Outsider, in her blood!"

"Who did it."

"I don't know, I swear, I really don't!"

The man stared at the pinpoint of the blade as the hand holding it grew unsteady, the tip coming so close to his eye that he didn't dare blink, when he was suddenly released. He crawled away, right leg dragging uselessly behind him and a wet stain on his trousers as his friend helped pull him into the alleyway. They watched from their corner as the ragged-looking lunatic swayed somewhat, as if lost before suddenly disappearing with a flash of blue and black tatters. All seemed safe, until the sound of screeching and chatter came with rats emerging from the drain across them.

Corvo was slammed against the wall by force of the Blink he used and the pipe beneath his feet groaned. He forced himself up onto the balcony and slumped down. Covering his mouth, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut when a pained sob managed to get out and simply tried to focus on breathing. Corvo pulled his legs to his chest as the burning in his lungs increased, like something digging out from his ribs. His throat threatened to choke him. His eyes grew hot and wet.

They're gone?

Gasping quietly, he reached up and pulled at his dirty long locks harshly. Jessamine's gone. Emily's gone. He shook his head while yanking at his hair, trying to gain some control with whispers of 'no' as tears began to flow.  
No, he had to stay in control. He had to keep focused. They were rumors, just rumors to scare people, make them lose hope but something told him that it wasn't.

They are gone.

He'll Blink all the way to the Estate District to prove it wrong, damn it all! It couldn't be true-

Dead, cold and lifeless, all because he was too weak. How scared she must had been. Emily, how long had she been alone, how long had she waited, how long had she cried for her mother and him, how long had she been his light? The fact that she might be alive somewhere out there waiting for him kept him alive, gave him the will to live through the hellhole he was in for six months.

He choked and clawed at his face, letting out a low distressed noise as his voice spoke in broken words. "Emily."

"I'm-" Corvo sobbed and curled into himself, seeing the image of her broken body staring at him. Eyes so filled with laughter, hope and innocence, now dull and wide with dead fear. Below him, the screams and yells of the two civilians fell upon deaf ears.  _"I'm so sorry."_

Something inside, dotted with cracks and holes, weighted down by stress, pain and heartbreak finally snapped and it burned.

Corvo cried himself to sleep, too tired and worn out that he didn't stir to the soft, careful touch of cold knuckles against his eyelids or how the air in the room dropped to freezing. Fingers followed the trails of wet sorrow down his eyelashes, past his cheek and pausing at the lips to brush against the cracked flesh before slipping under the jaw.

The shadows shifted and shivered as the Void crocked its head in curiosity. Black eyes revealing nothing as it leaned down, dead lips against the shell of Corvo's ear and whispered.

Under the deity, the former Royal Protector's brows furrowed and limbs twitched in his sleep as if unconsciously trying to escape. A pale hand cradled the back of his neck prevented him so, before the Outsider gave a brief smile. The Outsider pulled away back into the shadows, but then Corvo opened his tired eyes to lock onto those black ones.

"Is it true?"

The Outsider crocked his head as Corvo licked his lips, voice hoarse and weak but they both knew what he meant. Silence filled the agonizing moments of waiting and Corvo stopped expecting an answer. He let his eyes fall shut once more.  
"Even if you escaped days earlier, you still would not had been able to save her, Corvo."

"Who did it."

"You'll find out soon enough, where's the fun in me telling you?" Releasing a shaky breath, Corvo didn't react when the presence moved closer. "It is unfortunate, for in the many other realities I see, this never happened. I had seen ones where little Emily Kaldwin lives happily as Empress, ones where she rules with an iron fist and ones where she dies because you were too slow.

"Yet, here she dies prematurely with or without your inference. Her death will affect the story-line greatly, as her mother's did, and many new doors that should had been closed now welcome you." It lingered as he began to slip into the heavy yet weightless abyss called sleep, an odd sound of whalesong in the distance but Corvo forced himself to stay.

"You knew, didn't you."

"I know a many great things and all its possibilities, but I do not write the book itself. I merely observe as things unfold, and this twist as depressing as it is to you and this breaking city, will be interesting." The Mark shone bright with otherworldly colors as its deity smiled. "Sleep, my dear Corvo. I will be watching and I know that you will not fail to please."

He was greeted with the taste iron and salt and a folded piece of paper in his right hand, feeling nothing as he stared up at the grey sky when he opened his eyes again. There was a foggy dream at the back of his mind, drowning in icy water and two distant voices of a harsh woman and a frightened girl auguring but the more he thought about it, the further it drifted from his grasp. He gave up after the third try, a hollow hurt in his chest and glanced at the paper.

Prying it open, he saw the simple crayon artwork of a child—a woman dressed in black and a tall man in blue holding hands with a little girl in between the figures, hanging hands and smiling. Corvo stared at it for nearly a full minute before quickly, but carefully putting it away, the urge to burn it countered the unwillingness to even crumple it.

Morning, midday, Corvo didn't care anymore and settled for simply laying there until the sky grew darker with a promise of rain. Only then did he considered moving when it started to pour, wondering if staying dry was worth getting up from his spot.  
To be honest, he didn't think he had anymore tears to shed after the fourth month in Coldridge.

Numbly, Corvo forced himself up and into the room, collapsing into a creaking wooden chair and dropped his head on the dusty table. He counted the beats of his heart (still beating, unlike them) and lost count somewhere around two hundred and four when he finally lifted his head enough to give the room a look.

Smaller table, candle, Piero's remedy, a piece of stale bread and some canned hagfish. Behind it were some thin mattresses thrown about and a closet, which Corvo dragged himself over to. After a long minute or so, he held up an old white dress-shirt and some thin brown pants, along with a simple dark waistcoat which fitted him nicely. Corvo changed out of his sewer damped clothes, but hung his Lord Protector coat on the chair. He couldn't bare to burn it, let alone toss it away despite not holding the title or right anymore.

Instead he moved on to the bread, hand mechanically ripping it into smaller pieces.

Tear, chew, swallow. Tear, chew, swallow.

He stopped thinking, just letting his body move on autopilot until he was standing over the balcony looking down. Corvo could see the dried bloodstains of the two men last night, the rats gone elsewhere for another meal and felt nothing. Slowly, he raised his left hand and the mark shone in azure and gold, boots landing lightly on stone pavement of the street.

"There is a way," Corvo recalled the quiet whisper and cold breath chilling his cheek and neck as the shadows sunk its claws into him. "There is always a way,"

There was a small urge to jump when he perched the railing and stared down at the ground, a wonder of whether he would survive the fall when came the loud sound of speakers being powered.

"Attention Dunwall citizens: With sad hearts, the City Watch must announce the death of Lady Emily Kaldwin, daughter to our beloved late Empress. Anyone with information regarding her death are to report to the Watch immediately. The funeral will be held tomorrow at Dunwall Tower and will be opened to certain guest only, may she rest in peace."

Without another thought, Corvo let himself fall. However, his body instinctively caught itself, resulting in landing with only a small grunt and the stab of pain in his legs.

A couple of rats sniffing and scratching in an overturned dumpster looked up when he walked by, before following and squeezing into a crack in a wall of the building he climbed into by a balcony. Corvo blinked hard to activate the otherworldly sight, finding the shape of an old lady downstairs moving cutlery around.

"Yours is called Dark Vision, dearie," The old quivering voice of the woman made Corvo freeze on the steps of the stairs, her bright yellow shape moving to stand by the doorway as his sight returned to normal. She smiled at him with glazed unseeing eyes, but moved with confidence not of her place. "Come, come! Granny has some tea ready, how exciting it is to have a guest again. It's been so long, and more so, He sent you."

She dragged him into a small room lit by rat lights by the arm, quietly chattering of rats peeking out from dark corners of the room as she brought out a kettle and a small box of leaves to prepare. "He visited me last night, my prince. We talked and talked for hours, and he asked of me to teach you. Oh, the things we can do, he showed me. His gift to us change over time, did you know? It changes to suit us, to help us become better.

"I can't wait, I can see all the things we shall do. Maybe you can even help Granny choose her new wedding dress, so many choices and so many beauties." Corvo opened his mouth to speak, but the elderly lady shoved a little pot of cookies and a cup of brewed tea at him and went on, "You're wondering what I'm talking about, hm? Well, patience, my love. Rest assure, Granny will teach you all what you need, yes she will.

"Meanwhile, would you kindly take care of some visitors for me? Those gentlemen callers. They've been rather rude, not like how they used to be." Granny Rags trailed off, presenting a key in her hand. As if on cue, knocks came from the main door. Corvo glanced back at the her, then at the stairs and heard the whispers of the rats from deeper in the building. With a frown, he cautiously took the key from her open palm and walked to the door.

"Well done, dear one. He will be so proud of us," Corvo barely heard her say over the sound of the cut-off screams from the 'visitors', her voice filled with glee and his hand burned. "So proud..."

When he returned, she offered him his present and more tea which Corvo took with much discomfort.

"And about the little one's wake," Granny started and he tensed in his seat, "I suggest you don't attend. Of course, there's the fact that you can't stroll along the waterway freely unlike me, it's best that you don't. Stay here and rest, love, while I head out to do something. I won't be long."

Corvo didn't go to the funeral, out of denial and out of shame and the fact he was still wanted to believe that this was just a nightmare. That he would wake up any moment and find himself back in Dunwall Tower with Jessamine and Emily. Instead, he sat by and watched from the more isolated parts of the river. Listening to the sounds of a band playing far away, the quiet prayers of the people of Dunwall and angry mutters of blame.

 _"They mourn for her,"_  A little white rat chirped at him, beady pink eyes watching him from its cover by the rocks.  _"Can you hear them?"_

The former Royal Protector ignored the tiny creature, but didn't step on it when it followed him back after nightfall. He waited until the moon was high up before heading off, walking through the sewers with the rat leading him. Never mind what Granny said; the funeral was over hours ago.

Dripping wet and exhausted from Blinking all the way, Corvo stood in the gazebo, staring down blankly at the memorials surrounded by grand flowers. It had been left untouched by the Lord Regent's construction of an ultimate safe house—out of respect for the late Empress, he hoped.

Her Majesty Jessamine Kaldwin.

He glanced at the one next to it, stone newly made and whiter, where more bouquets were placed.

Young Lady Emily Kaldwin, sweet child who never deserved such an early end.

Corvo dropped to his knees, a hand over his chest and head bowed. His whispers were near silent and broken, apologies and pleads for forgiveness as he quietly mourned. The little lone white rat watched from the bushes, a good distance away and listening for the sound of guards. The Lord Regent had ordered that nobody was to be out after dusk on the tower grounds, and guards were only allowed to patrol inside for this particular day.

He stayed there until the beginning of light peeked out from the horizon, bones creaking as he slipped something out of his coat. The paper from earlier when Corvo had woken up with, it hurt to look at it so he slipped it under a loose tile in between the two memorials with his head down. Hesitantly, he reached out to caress both memorials with great care before forcing himself to turn away.

A raven crowed loudly from its perch above the gazebo as Corvo picked up the white rodent and Blinked away, not noticing the figure in red walk over to stand in his place seconds later. The stranger pulled off the whaler's mask as he gazed at the carved stones, glancing at the direction of where the former Royal Protector went, before kneeling down.

In the morning when the maids came to remove wilted flowers, they found a small bouquet of wild flowers under the late Empress's memorial and a bag of sweets by Lady Emily's.


	2. Chapter 2

Corvo found a somewhat unnerving working relationship with Granny Rags.

She would ask for him to do simple tasks like opening the door for her to let out her 'little birdies' for some air, to weird missions of bringing her three unconscious Overseers or sneaking into a nobleman's house and leaving a rat's tooth under his pillows. In return, she kept her promise and rewarded him by guiding Corvo to use his gifts. To carve bones that sing, turn bodies into ash, call rats from thought and twist into the minds of others that could make them house irrational thoughts against allies. Corvo remembered about the Abbey's frequent talks about black magic and witchcraft, as if being a witch is any worse than being an assassin.

"You can make them feel," she crackled quietly when she pointed to the few souls who still dared walk the streets, turning to him with a wide smile. "You could make that man suspicious of his friend; have him think: does he have the plague or; my elixir's cap was not shut right, did he sneak a swing? Maybe you can even get them to kill each other."

It started off easier said than done. Possession. Compared to Blink or Dark Vision, this one took a lot out of him even when he didn't succeed. Sinking into another's body and wearing their flesh, Corvo successfully did his first possession on a rat from his summoned pack. It laid in a puddle of its own blood, the upset swarm hissed at him for hours upon end. It was awkward, especially as a hagfish and he remembered choking when he was suddenly shoved out of its body as he Blinked out to stable ground.

When the quickly growing pile of odd singing bones, some from Granny while others he found, in the cupboard of the abandoned house he claimed started to overflow, did Corvo finally manage to slip into a human's skin. There was a significant difference between controlling small animals and walking as a man, the latter was constant and fought back even after he pushed them back. Sometimes if he shoved hard enough, the host would be left unconscious when he left.Â It took nearly two weeks and a lot of willpower for Corvo to make them 'feel'. It started off with small bits of emotion—an abrupt anger at fellow guard or irritation at bad weather. Then it moved on to thoughts, having them focus on a particular subject before it fueled actions. Corvo learnt that while he could insert certain thoughts into multiple people, he could only truly control one single person at a time unless he wanted to waste the day away nursing a pain in his head akin to hammering nails.

"You'll get used to it, dear. It's like new leather, you just have to use it over and over again." Granny Rags said when Corvo stumbled after a Blink in the room, nodding a wary thanks when she offered him glass of whiskey. "When you're feeling better, Granny has something for you to do."

He was extremely grateful for the Outsider's gift when he went to the High Overseer's office. Granny Rags had requested for him to bring him the ashes of the previous High Overseers, which one didn't seemed to matter. Corvo kept close to the shadows on high ledges and pipes, Blinking pass the Wall of Lights and guards when something caught his eye.

An unmasked overseer in the stocks at Holger Square, visibly battered and bruised even from so high up. Two Overseers stood in front of the trapped one, mocking. Corvo never really did liked the Abbey, and knowing who sat on the top didn't help. What happened inside wasn't his problem but still, watching one of the towering Overseer kick and spit at the kneeling figure hit a nerve. The memory of the torture he had endured for six months was still fresh so he held out his left hand and felt the Void respond to his call.

He focused the Overseers, finding and targeting something that all of them had in common. Fear of the plague.

"I heard Brother Freddrik coughing last night before he went out to patrol. You share his bunk, don't you?" one of the pair piped up, turning away from the traitor.

"Are you accusing me of plague?" the other snorted and shifted his weight. Corvo nudged the paranoid and irritation as it brewed and settled, before Blinking onto a lamp pole as the two continued.

"At a time like this, you could never be too careful, brother." The last word was tainted with heavy sarcasm.

"Hah. If anything, you probably have the sickness. I saw your sister being herded out by a City Watch guard a couple of days ago."

The arguing turned ugly fast, growing louder with each toss before Corvo finally gave them a last push. The first Overseer drew his sword but the other was faster and chose the pistol, shooting him dead. Before the Overseer could calm down and clear the angry fog that hovered heavily in his mind, Corvo dropped down and reached out to the man with his fingers arched like claws and the mark glowed. A weightless feeling hit him and Corvo gasped for air with another's mouth, letting the magic take hold and pushed the original host's conscious further back into his mind. Turning, he tossed the pistol aside and walked over to the kneeling Overseer.

The remaining man stared up at him, eyes wide with confusion, he watched the exchange in silence and grunted in surprise when Corvo kicked the stock's lever. By the time he recovered and looked up, Corvo had already choked out the body he was wearing and Blinked high up to the dark corners of the ledges overhead. The office of the High Overseer was a mess, with the death of the two Empresses both late and recent were hard blows. The services to the Abbey, along with many other things like meetings, were postponed.

There were rumors too; Corvo listened from a catwalk above the Achieves as two men of faith whispered about how High Overseer Campbell was against the Lord Regent's decision of supporting the Boyle family for the throne. The Abbey was unofficially split into two, half supporting Campbell while another half to some other Overseer. He was above and ready to drop down behind one of them when the rumors moved onto a meeting with a Geoff Currow. The meeting with the captain had been delayed for too long since the death of Lady Emily until now.

The older Overseer hushed the newer one, warning him about ears all around and reminding him of the strictures. Corvo waited for them to walk in different ways, before quietly dropping behind one of them and knocking him out. He dragged him into the nearest empty room, which revealed to be the interrogation room. Grimacing at the memories flooding back, Corvo searched the room, coming upon certain instruments of pain and other interesting items, and made up his mind. He spent the next long minutes locating the Memorial Room downstairs, breaking one of the urns when a tiny brown rat nearby squeaked about it having a shiny object inside out of curiosity.

With a sack full of ash, Corvo headed back upstairs to the Meeting Chamber with the rodent by his heels. When he stepped into the room, he wasn't sure what to really do besides interfere with the meeting, but then the rat climbed up the side of his pants leg, hissing about the deadly sweetness in the wine by the table. The sound of voices from the door across him urged panic and Corvo flipped the tray over, Blinking back up to the catwalk as the glass shattered and the little rat still on his pants squealed while the door swung open.

Currow looked older from when Corvo last saw him, the stress plain on his face. He felt a sense of pity, Corvo could easily imagine himself like that if all this never happened. He did like the Watch Officer's personality and sense of good justice so he couldn't be bribed, it wasn't a surprise they wanted him dead. Campbell exclaimed in anger at the spilled drinks, before offering to bring Currow elsewhere, gesturing him to go first. The urge to dig the whalebone knife Granny Rags had given him into Campbell's throat was overwhelming when Corvo Blinked behind him, but he settled for hooking his arm around that neck and dragging him backwards as the doors in front clicked shut.

Without a moment to waste, Corvo lifted the bastard over his shoulder and returned to the catwalk, raising a brow when the rat that still clung onto the fabric protested again. It refused to let go, and even climbed into a ruined pocket, making squeaks as it settled in the fabric as Corvo ignored it in favor of Blinking over to the interrogation room. He took great pleasure when the High Overseer screamed in agony from the Heretic's brand, before stepping out to the window. It was only a pity Campbell wasn't awake for him to observe how his life was now ruined.

Just as he did, the doors of the Meeting Chamber at the end of the hallway slammed open and Corvo met the frazzled Currow's eyes before jumping out of the window to the ledge. The scream of alarms came seconds later and the window shutters came down, the volume making him cringe and nearly lose balance being right next to them. Even with the Overseers below running around frantically, Corvo escaped unscratched. The sirens grew softer with each Blink but remained even as he returned to Granny Rags' gleeful greeting.

He didn't stay with her of course, considering the fact that something about the old lady made him uncomfortable and that every night the sound of rats squealed and screamed came from her ruined home. An abandoned house with a simple bedroom and kitchen settled as his resting place high above her home. Although it didn't have much furniture besides a rickety table, cupboard and bed, at least it was high up. Corvo wasn't sure if Granny Rags could follow up here but at least her rats couldn't.

The rodents were no longer aggressive towards him, their whispers now clearer and either ignored him or sniffed his boots before darting away. Granny Rags had cooed at his swarm of little dearies when Corvo learnt to summon them, they liked her but there were clear differences between her rats and his. The ones Corvo summoned were mostly quiet, never as loud as the other rats in the area and tended to follow him wherever he went. Somehow they even managed to climb all the way up to his 'nest', as Granny called it. After the third time of trying to shoo them out, Corvo let them huddle in the corners of the room or under the bed. So long as they don't get in his way, he told himself.

In a sense, maybe it was for the better. At least he wasn't alone anymore.

When morning came, Corvo listened carefully to the announcements made. They talked about Campbell's banishment and he waited for his name to be mentioned but it never came. Currow must had kept his mouth shut, maybe the time they spent working together did mean something. 

Two days later, the City Watch came to barricade Granny Rags' home but by then they had already left. The rats from the sewers had informed them early by a day, she had moved to a passage that connected to the Golden Cat under Clavering Boulevard while he chose the river. With a large sack containing whispering bones, vials and a bit of fruit over his shoulder, Corvo stared at the waters from the same spot last time. A good distance away from any guards or civilians, he took his time to think.

The rats swarming around his boots watched him with bright black eyes, chattering about a nice quiet place untouched by the shores near the Flooded District, but the question was getting there. He could always just steal a boat, though he barely remembered how to pilot one.

 _'There is always the sewers, they lead everywhere.'_  a black rat chirped up from the pack, her little pink paws rubbing her face and whiskers before looking back up for an answer. Corvo simply grunted in reply, not really knowing what to say out-loud when the loud rumble of an engine from the river caught their attention. He tensed up and prepared to move, the rats growing agitated as the boat came into view. An old man sat up and glanced around, as if looking for someone.

 _'Sad, sad sailor,'_  whispered the little albino rat who had followed Corvo as she hopped down to the rocks closer, sniffing at the water. _'There is little for him to look forward to nowadays,'_  A hagfish swam closer to the surface, curious of the moving shapes on the rocks and another rat jumped next to her.

Corvo glanced at the boatman before reaching out to pull the rats away from danger, when the small thing emitted something akin to a war cry and lashed out at the fish. Corvo stared as the other rats crowded around the water and dragged it back, who was still biting down on the struggling fish. He made a small noise at the sight of more rats trying to edge around the water, some falling in and scrambling back to land. Somehow, they managed to drag out another fish and were feasting on both.

"Hello, uh, sir?" Corvo slowly turned around and fixed the now standing old man a wide-eyed look, glancing back at the rats beside him and back at the man.

"It's okay, Corvo. Name's Samuel, I'm a friend," the boatman paused to shoot a wary look at the rats and eyed his tired appearance, but did not question, "I know some people who can help you. Clear your name and all. I can bring you to see 'em, they've got a safe place up ahead. How about it?"

The former Lord Protector stared at him with a straight face for a few long moments, before slowly shifting to face Samuel fully, hand lowering from the sword enough to not appear threatening but still ready to draw. "Do you know your way around the river?"

Samuel blinked and quickly nodded, "Used to be a sailor in the good ol' days, now I just settle for piloting here 'round these parts. Why?"

Corvo carefully walked over to the boat, the rats following him until he quietly shooed them away and they scrambled down a nearby drain. Only a few stayed and hopped into the boat, startling the old man who jerked away closer to the controls. Corvo simply stepped onto the vessel and sat, the remaining rats settling on or around him. Samuel eyed them with distaste but started up the engine anyway as Corvo continued, "I need to get off at a certain place," He paused before adding, "I'll pay."

"No need, coming to the Hounds Pits is more than enough," Samuel answered, and they set off, silence falling on them. After a few long minute, Samuel couldn't help but break the quiet. "They, uh sure like you."

"They don't have the plague if you're wondering," Corvo spoke up and nudged away one which was nibbling his fingers, right hand over left.

"N-no, it's not that. Well, maybe," Samuel coughed and shrugged, peering at the rats before giving Corvo a little grin. His voice, light with humor, was appreciated even if somewhat forced. "It's just, my whole life I had never seen rats catch fish until now."

The younger man shifted his gaze to the waters and managed to smile back, "Me either."

They fell back into much more comfortable silence. The ride wasn't long, both Corvo and the rats savored the return of solid ground, the latter scrambling out and into a broken pipe while the white rat nested in a pocket. Corvo followed Samuel out of the boat to the building, a sign stating 'The Hound Pits' in bold above it and he took care of facing away from the boatman when he activated Dark Vision for a quick look around. He noted the yellow figures walking inside on the second floor of the bar and what seemed to be a workshop beside him, before turning back to the door.

"The Admiral's inside waiting probably, along with Lord Pendleton and Overseer Martin," Samuel said as he opened it and stepped in, keeping the door open for him before heading over to fetch a glass of whiskey by the bar.

"Corvo! It's an honor to finally meet you in person," a broad-shouldered man greeted, standing from his place by the tables further back and shook his hand firmly. "I am Admiral Farley Havelock," He gestured to a scrawny nobleman who raised a cup of wine to Corvo, "this is Lord Pendleton, the man funding our group and-"

"Teague Martin," The former Lord Protector made sure not to react to the Overseer when he offered his hand, shaking it politely and ignoring how Martin's grip seemed to linger for a second too long.

"We've heard a lot about you, Corvo." Havelock began explaining of their cause, their efforts to push the Lord Regent off his high horse and avenge both the Empress and her daughter's deaths.

"It's a rather odd coincidence that my escape from the stocks happened on the same night Campbell was branded by a mysterious attacker," Martin said, eyes sharp for suspicion on him but Corvo merely stared back steadily. He silently thanked the Outsider he wore gloves before coming here as Martin's gaze paused at his right hand over left. "Furthermore, nobody knows how you broke out of Coldridge. Mind telling us how you did it?"

"I had help," Corvo shrugged and Martin smirked in response, a new question at the ready.

"We can discuss about Corvo's escape later, Martin." Havelock interrupted, ignoring the look from the Overseer and turning to Corvo. "Right now, we're planning an attack on the Lord Regent's political side. Custis and Morgan Pendleton to be exact, and we have reason to believe that they are responsible for Lady Emily's passing."

Corvo listened with a straight face revealing nothing as Havelock's expression grew grave and Pendleton's paler, Martin simply stared at him unnervingly when Corvo thanked the Loyalist for their insight. He walked out of the bar with a promise to consider their offer, feeling their heated eyes on his back as the door closed behind him. Despite their cause, Corvo couldn't help but feel edgy in the Loyalists' presence, even more so under the gaze of the Overseer.

 _'They seek more than what they are telling,'_  Tiny snout and whiskers peeked out from his pocket as he made his way outside, her voice tinged with concern and distrust. He didn't remember when she slipped in. _'The boatman and servants here are nice enough, so is the inventor, although it's not him who walks at night.'_

"I know," Corvo whispered back and gave his thanks by gently brushing his thumb against her head, pausing when the man from the workshop called for him. Piero put him on edge, the way the inventor stared at him like he was a rare blueprint that needed to be edited, but at least he was honest. Corvo was grateful for the sword and crossbow he gave, their weights sitting nicely in his palm but the mask was... different.

"It's my greatest masterpiece yet," Piero told him while adjusting the lens of the mask, Corvo tried not to fidget. "It will surely make your enemies freeze up in fear." The Serkonan kept to himself that he wasn't really planning to wear it, changing the subject to a list of odd ingredients on the desk behind him when Piero took off the mask.

"In need of these?"

"Oh, well yes. I've been trying to improve my remedy and the toxin used for sleep darts." Piero absentmindedly answered, busy tinkering with his machine and Corvo shrugged before pocketing the list.Â The rats knew where most of these things were.Â 

After listening to the inventor rambled on about his projects long enough to be polite, Corvo left by the backdoor. He met the other servants, Lydia who made him slightly uncomfortable with her suggestive tone with certain question, Wallace who looked at him with unspoken judgement and Cecelia, who was probably the only one he liked well enough.

"There's also Callista," the redhead said while sweeping the floor, glancing at up shyly before dropping her gaze back to the floor. Corvo felt the urge to ensure her that he was no threat, but that would had been lying. He settled for silence instead. "She was suppose to care for... Lady Emily, if we found her. But now she just shares our chores." The young woman cut herself off, edging away when she saw the expression on Corvo's face at the mention of Emily. It was a mix of sorrow and bitter rage but he caught her staring and sighed, muttering a thanks.

"Callista's probably at the tower," Cecelia quickly added before Corvo walked away, holding the broom close to cross her arms. "She's depressed, over the death of the her Ladyship and more. Everyone is, but I think it hit her worse." As Corvo headed up the stairs, Cecelia called out, "I-I'm sorry for your loss, Master Corvo." He didn't answer.

Corvo knocked on the door leading to the 'tower' and heard a somewhat distressed 'in a minute', but he opened it anyway. He nearly had a book in the face, catching it out of reflexes and raised a brow at the nursemaid across him, arm still outstretch and blinking tears away with her cheeks colored. He made her uneasy. Talking to him was like walking on eggshells and the conversation was more of her voice than his. However, after awhile, they fell into a comfortable pace. Callista spoke of her uncle and a few hopes she had left while he mostly listened, talking until the sun begun to sink into the river. There was no need to bring up the subject that brought a stab of pain in the heart, they could see it plain on each other.

 _"Samuel will bring her out fishing someday. It's not a whaling ship, but it's something and she will cherish that,"_  squeaked the little mouse in his coat as Corvo made his way back down the pub's stairs, waving off Lydia and Havelock's suggestions of him staying the night. He bid them goodnight before finding the boatman outside, leaning against the wall with a cigarette and tired smile.

"You sure you want to go now, Corvo? We can head out tomorrow morning instead, you look like you could use the rest." The former Royal Protector took one long look at Samuel's kind, weary face and nodded. There was no actual rush after all and Corvo could feel the insistent tug of sleep at the back of his eyes as he walked past the iron gates behind Piero's workshop. Corvo didn't feel safe sleeping in the offered attic of the Hound Pits. The sound of footsteps and muffled talking in the building was different from the soft, swift breathing of the rats that would nest in the same room.

Making sure that nobody was watching, Corvo Blinked up to a window of one of the abandoned apartments surround the pub. He broke in and did the usual scout of Dark Vision, finding a pouch of coin and few books, one of them an old Serkonan tale about merfolk which brought upon a brief smile when he lit a still useable candle to read it. He took off his coat and shirt and sat down on a dusty old couch, taking the book and a piece of fruit from the sack.

By the last page about the short story about a village girl reuniting with her mermaid lover, the two ladies cuddling by the beach at night and lived together in a cove happily ever after, when the sound of scrapping claws came from the wall and rats poured out from a vent in the corner, their numbers covering half of the room with shrill greetings. A couple of them hopped up the sofa he settled on, trying to nuzzle under him or his clothes for warmth. If people thought the Young Prince of Tyvia was erotic, they should try works from Serkonos, Corvo snorted in light amusement and placed the book aside for another about the White Cliff.Â He read it with a raised eyebrow, eyes not leaving the pages as he turned his head slightly in the direction of the new presence in the room, one that brought the cold ocean air.

"They really don't like you," Corvo said as a greeting when the Outsider leaned over his shoulder to read, the item of bones in the sack by the foot of the sofa humming so loudly that it nearly drowned out his words but the deity heard it. Corvo used to stay silent whenever the Outsider visited, in both dreams and reality, and like Granny Rags, they had found an odd relationship. If the deity was unhappy with Corvo's replies slowly growing bolder, it didn't show it.

"People fear what they cannot understand or bend to their will," replied the Outsider, watching the former Royal Protector toss aside the book for a random one from the pile. It was the Seven Strictures and Corvo shrugged before flipping through it, tired and yearning for sleep but restless at the same time. "Tell me, Corvo, do you fear me?"

Sighing, Corvo placed the book back in the pile and dropped his head on the armrest. He stared up at the Outsider, who returned the gaze with an expectant look, "If I had more to lose, maybe."

"I see. Did you like the mask?"

"It's creepy and disturbing on a normal level,"

"You've gotten rather bold. Still, it says a lot about you," The Outsider crocked its head, nudging a rat aside to rest its chin on the space beside Corvo's head. "Don't you think?"

Corvo ignored the question in favor for another book, a children's bedtime story this time. However, he put it back at the memory of trying to read one to Emily when she was younger. It was terrible, Gristol's stories filled with enough bad endings to rival Tyvia's dark fairytales so Corvo told her old folktales he faintly remembered his mother telling him.

"Read one out to me," insisted the Outsider, its voice and cool breath against Corvo's ear made him flinched at how close it was, yet he didn't shift away. Corvo thought about pointing out the fact that out of all things, the Outsider would know almost everything. "Not every tale is the same, my dear Corvo."

He let out a long sigh and covered his eyes with an arm. "If I do, will you let me sleep?"

The Outsider simply stared at him unblinkingly, crossing its arms and waiting. Corvo glanced back at the being once more and groaned, trying to recall one of the earlier stories from his childhood. He ignored the stab of homesickness as he did. "...There once was a great winged-serpent which shed scales of jewels,"

"That is not true, they were the colors of the rainbow."

"...Right. Anyway, the serpent lived in a spring which had water that could heal the sick, poor and old. People all over Serkonos traveled to drink from the spring and greatly respected the beast. One day a pair of lost children, a brother and sister, abandoned by their parents, stumbled upon it."

"They were twins actually," interjected the Outsider and Corvo sat up slightly to look at the deity,

"Do you do this to all your marked ones?"

"Continue, Corvo,"

He did, the tale about how the serpent befriended the children, sheltered them in its jaws, hunted for them and offered a fang as a knife, resulting in silver to constantly drip from its mouth. They augured over which ending was better, the twins and creature living happily ever after, or the boy accidentally killing his sister and the serpent turning him into silver Corvo fell asleep halfway and the Outsider let him, watching the human surrounded by rats rest.

Its lips curved upwards for a moment, before the Void slipped away from the world.Â 

Corvo woke up to a small warm fuzzy thing landing on his face, scent of blood and fur making him cough a little before he picked up the rodent by the tail and placed it on the floor. He rubbed his face, surprised that he didn't feel as tired as usual and gave a quiet awkward thanks to the Outsider. After shooing the rats off and away, Corvo found a working tap and gratefully washed up before moving to the broken window. Still before noon, Corvo noted and jumped out when nobody was watching, or at least as far as his otherworldly vision could see.

He heard the rats rushed down the vent systems and into the sewers as he made his way into the pub, being greeted by Lydia and Callista. They talked quietly over a breakfast the older woman insisted Corvo eat, about the tension in the air of the second floor and how Lord Pendleton was going through their supplies of drinks faster than usual.

Lydia glanced at the doorway to the stairs as she passed him a plate of whale meat, voice hushed. "I overheard the Admiral and Overseer Martin talking about the Pendleton twins, seemed like they were planning to head off to Morley. Not much of a surprise really, if they were truly responsible for Lady Emily, the Lord Regent would probably have their heads."

Corvo slowly nodded and thanked her quietly while Callista refilled his drink, looking solemn with a cold glint in her eyes. "Are you going to kill them, Corvo?"

There was not much holding him back, but still.

"Maybe," Callista took his answer with a small forced smile, straining to push back a burning rage in her with a mother's instincts. She honestly cared for Emily, or at least would have. Her smile grew more natural when Corvo hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, thanking the would-have-been caretaker as he left.

"They aren't too happy you rejected their offer," Cecelia suddenly spoke up when he neared Piero's workshop, making Corvo whip around and almost draw his new sword. Cecelia stumbled back with a frightened look, even as Corvo forced his body to relax and muttered an apology while waving hers off. "I'm sorry, it's just that I felt bad. For yesterday."

He shook his head and gave her what he hoped was a non-threatening look, motioning to the second floor with his head. "What's with them?"

The redhead blinked and followed his gaze with an uncomfortable look. "I think they're worried that without your help, they can't move on." She glanced around before murmuring something about Wallace catching her slacking and walked back inside.

"Sometimes, the Loyalists don't even notice her," Corvo looked down to see the little white rat standing on its hind legs, "She does what she can to be seen but it's a just part of her." Corvo nodded in agreement and picked the rodent up, slipping her in her usual place in his pocket as he went over to Samuel.

"Morning, Corvo," the boatman turned away from inspecting the engine. "Where're we off to?"

Pausing, Corvo realized that he couldn't hear any of the other rats and frowned. He resisted the urge to use Dark Vision as he glanced at the sewer pipe behind him, stepping into the boat. They will find their way. "There's a place just off the Flooded District, I've the directions."

"You look much better, I take it that you slept well, sir?" Samuel started as they set off, "I'm not one who likes poking my nose into other people's business, but the Admiral asked for me to try and 'convince' you to join us." He snorted in good humor at Corvo's raised brow. "Yes, I know. It's shady business, what they want you to do, but hear me out. "It's them Pendleton twins. They've got a ship ready, scheduled to go pass the barricades for Morley in three days time. While we know it's only whaling trawlers that come in and out of here, there's a chance they paid good money to catch a ride good enough for their standards. Arrogant pair, the brothers."

Corvo leaned back slightly as Samuel maneuvered them along the river, avoiding most of the city. The morning was misty and grey but somehow, a bit of warm sunshine peeked out from the clouds, lighting the waters as much as Dunwall's miserable weather allowed.

"Does the bastard Burrows know?"

"According to Martin's contacts, not yet. They plan to escape before the Lord Regent has a new family on the throne, probably the Boyles." Samuel shook his head with solemn expression when the vessel neared the Flooded District, Greaves Refinery visible by the glowing trails of blue leaking out into the waters from the dock. Tall buildings, factories and homes once stood with pride and success now grim and foreboding with a echoing sadness. "Old Rudshore Financial District, great pity how is it now. Seen it before, when the dam was still up. Now it's just a place for dumping corpses, rats and if what some say are true, assassins."

The boatman turned to Corvo, who was staring at the district with an intense look. "You sure you wanna be anywhere near here, Corvo?"

"Further down," The Serkonan's gaze shifted to him for a moment before it went back to the Flood District. "There's a place further down, just follow the coastline."

"Alright then," Frowning, Samuel switched up the controls and watched Corvo glare at the buildings as it grew smaller and smaller with concern but didn't question. The coastline was filled with floating debris that swapped to jagged rocks as the dark factories looming over them were replaced with smaller houses, moss and reeds and cattails growing almost everywhere along the edge. The boatman took to quietly pointing out certain plants to Corvo, which ones could be used for wounds to stop bleeding or chew to help one breathe when having a flu when Samuel suddenly reached out and turned off the engine.

Corvo blinked and opened his mouth, but was hushed by the older man who signaled him to listen. Corvo did, and his eyes narrowed at the sound of odd croaking and wet movement. He activated Dark Vision and grimace at the sight of nearly a dozen yellow oval shapes behind a broken stone wall. River krust.

"Starting to hate those things," Samuel sighed as they drifted quietly further away from danger, the rumbling of the engine now taken over by the soft crash of water hitting the shore. "Well, we've got two options now. We either find a way around the lump of krust or get rid of them." Corvo held up a grenade and shifted closer to the front of the boat while Samuel leaned back. It took two of those to remove all the shellfish, the first only getting half of them as the boat rocked from the blast and screech of dying molasses.

Grinning, the boatman patted him lightly on the back and started a conversation about his encounters with those horrible creatures and odder ones when he was still a young sailor. Corvo smiled back and listened, once in a while adding a few of his own from sailors and returning fishermen he met before.

"We're here, we're here!" Perking up at the movement in his coat, Corvo sat up slightly when the squealing ball of fur scrambled out, the rat climbing onto his shoulder and huddling against his neck and hair. Before them was what seemed like a broken bridge leading to a piece of land covered in wild greenery and an old apartment caving into itself sat on it. It felt unusual, looking at the building with the other sight to find no life in it. The plague had gotten bad enough that there were always at least a rat or two everywhere. Taller structures surrounded the house, hiding it from sight of anyone in the main parts of the Flooded District.

Corvo couldn't help but smile slightly at Samuel's look of distrust and worry at the place, stepping out carefully with a thanks when the boat pulled up by a low rock at the edge of the shore. The white rat hopped off, landed on a pile of moss and disappeared in the bushes while a quick check with Dark Vision told him there was only blue and green objects in the house. "Corvo, wait!" the sailor called out as Corvo gave his thanks, taking out a small box and handing it to him. "From Callista, and are you sure you want to stay here? While I know the river up and down, I don't know whether this one's safe."

"I'll be fine," the former Royal Protector assured him and paused, smiling lightly. "If you're worried, you can come back at sundown, I'll wait for you here."

The boatman frowned at him and sighed after a long moment, turning away to dig for something in the hidden compartments of his vessel. "Since you're this convinced to stay, do me a favor and take this." He handed Corvo a flare gun, the younger male inspecting it with genuine curiosity before looking back at him, "In case you need help, use it. I'll look out for it from the pub."

"Thank you, Samuel." Corvo quietly replied, honestly touched by the boatman's concern.

"Try not to get eaten by some monster there, I better see you later." Corvo watched until he could no longer see Samuel's boat, before Blinking to the building, breaking in carefully with Dark Vision on all the time exploring.

The first floor was empty with the backroom blocked off by the collapsed ceiling, breaking away to the second floor where he found a bedroom with a safe. The third one was the best preserved, most of the furniture still intact and there's wide balcony that was once used for tea parties. He searched through the cupboards to find nothing much aside from moth-eaten clothes and cutlery that he probably wouldn't use. The only treasure was a pile of thick blankets. Corvo was ripping one in half and fixing it into a makeshift hammock when he looked up at the sound of flapping.

"Caw." A young raven perched on the balcony railings, turning its head to the side to look at Corvo.

Staring at the bird, Corvo had half the mind to close the balcony doors before it came in, but decided that it wouldn't really come in. Right?

As if to prove him wrong, the raven glided into the room and settled on the dresser in front of him.

"...Shoo." Corvo said and the young bird simply crocked its head at him again. Probably just a very curious one, ravens tend to act more so before growing into adulthood. Confused and somewhat unnerved by the bird's eyes that held more understanding then it should, he turned away from it to hang the hammock at the furthest corner of the room, only for the raven to flutter onto his shoulder.

Startled, Corvo drew his blade in reflex and caused his new visitor to fly back to the dresser. He glared at it, stopping when he felt somewhat silly and Blinked back downstairs instead after keeping his things in the cupboard. There was a good chance the bird was here to steal things anyway. "Caw!"

It glided after him, watching from its perch on a shelf as Corvo checked out the backroom. He could make out a fireplace and a window blocked by boards and a wardrobe, before he headed outside to find it. Still no rats, he noted as he stepped around what used to be a vegetable garden and an apple tree with a broken swing dangling from it. There was a story here, although it probably won't matter much to him. Calling for the wind to move the wardrobe was worth it, for he found a kitchen and a trapdoor leading to a cellar. Corvo nudged the trapdoor's handle with a boot, before carefully lifting it up.

He grimaced at the strong scent of moldy wood that wasn't weakened by the smell of wet plants and rain like the floors above were, feeling a sense of relief when he saw the numeral small shapes of yellow shifting. Giving a sharp whistle, he dropped down when they moved out of the way, grunting in reply to the squeaks about how much they missed him, complaints of the dust cloud he just kicked up and how they couldn't find a way upstairs.

Corvo looked at the lack of a ladder or stairs leading back up to the trapdoor and snorted, "I'm not going to carry all of you one by one up there." Ignoring the many indignant chirps as he started searching the place. "I'll throw food down, don't worry." He found several books, ruined by the wet environment, a shelf somewhat stoked with cans of food. The rats huddled around his feet, a couple trying to climb up his pants when he paused long enough while some dragged out coins from under a bookcase.

 _'There's something over here,'_  one of them, a black and white rat and among the smallest of the swarm struggled onto a boot. It stood on its hind legs, little paws clawing the air and wouldn't let go until Corvo lowered his hand for it to hop on. ' _But the key, where is the key?'_

In Dark Vision, it was a large blue gate behind an empty cupboard but no lever to open it or anything. Corvo mentally noted to inspect it further later and Blinked back up, the rats behind whined. He headed back up to the third floor, discovering a staircase that wasn't blocked off and followed it up to a door leading to the rooftop. The raven insistently trailed him and Corvo was starting to think that the Outsider sent it to annoy him when he kicked the door open.The bird swooped close to his head with a loud call.Â 

From the higher vantage point, Corvo spotted a way to Blink into the surrounding buildings, a possibility to savage and observe any dangers like weepers around the area, and a passage behind the rocks Samuel could use to travel without being seen. He will take care of the River Krust there later, Corvo decided with annoyance as he Blinked up to a window of the nearest building, sword in hand. It took him nearly an hour to search all four buildings surrounding his new place, finding only rats and junk for it had already been searched. He had a good view of the Flooded District, a group of weepers along the road to the houses and plenty of rat swarms alongside.

Corvo could make out the statue of Jessamine in the far distance and lowered his head in respect and sorrow. It still hurt to think about her and the promise to protect Emily, his failure.

"Caw!" A weight settled on his shoulder and the bird stared down at him, catching his fingers lightly with its beak and a quiet growl when Corvo reached up carefully to stroke it. He looked back at the statue and stood up straighter, a plan already forming.

The Pendleton's it was.

* * *

 

_The story of the serpent and the lost twins._

 

 

_There once was a great winged serpent who shed scales of jewels._

 

 

_Sick folk were cured upon drinking the water of a spring it guarded._

 

_And poor folk walked away with a chance at life._

 

_The serpent was generous and giving but of course, there was a price to pay._

 

 

 

_One day, a young pair of beggars--a sister and brother--went up to in during a storm._

 

_They begged for help, or food, or shelter._

_Being only a giant serpent, it allowed them to hide in its jaws and promised not to swallow them._

 

 

_After the storm had passed, it let them out, and offered that it would hunt for them, then shed its scales._

 

 

_And so the children waited as the serpent took to the skies._

_It returned with what looked like a creature of constellations, and the children were horrified but delighted._

 

 

_What a catch! What a meal!_

_Its fur would sell, they knew. Its meat, well, they would find out._

_As the brother started a fire, the sister asked if the serpent had a knife. It stared, conflicted, before offering its fangs._

 

 

_The sister refused, but the serpent insisted. "Just take one. I'll be fine." it promised._

_And so the sister did. She tugged and tugged until the fang came out and silvery liquid spilled, flowing into small river nearby._

_The serpent concealed any signs of pain, and the brother returned to help sharpen the fang._

 

 

 

 

_Once the creature was finally skinned and sliced, the three sat near the fire to cook it._

_Silver continued to spill into the river, forming smooth pebbles like moons._

_Curious, the boy began picking them up. The sister, on the other hand, offered to feed the serpent._

 

 

_Sheepishly, the great serpent agreed, but the meat was coated in silver every time its blood touched it._

_After several tries, the girl had an idea and went to the river to fetch some moss._

_Using the moss to cover the wound, they managed to stop the flow long enough for the winged serpent to eat._

 

_Meanwhile, the boy realized how much they could earn by using the serpent._

_We could be rich forever, he thought in awe and began to plot._

_That night when the serpent was sleep, he told his sister._

_But she disagreed._

 

 

 

_Blood against blood, they fought and argued and in his anger, the brother raised the fang._

_Her dying screams woke the great snake._

 

 

 

_And it stared down at him, his sister and felt rage and disgust._

 

 

_Your greed is your downfall, and forever may you never forget it, hissed the serpent._

_Before the boy could flee, it snatched him up in its jaws,_

_But not to kill._

 

_Instead it held him there as the flow of sliver liquid began to coat his body and dropped him, the boy now a statue shade of fallen stars._

_The winged serpent picked up the girl, and buried her._

_While the statue left where it was._

 

 

 

 

_With a sigh that shook the land, the serpent sunk itself into the spring._

_Soon enough, the spring started to dry until there was nothing but a tinkle of water._

_The people who came for the water found the statue_

_And many broke pieces off it, uncaring or ignorant to the fearful expression of the sliver._

 

_It wasn't long before the statue was in nothing but parts_

_And the water no more._

 

_The spring was said to be at the end of a forest around Karnaca, but now only the river remains. Still, sometimes if you're lucky, you can find small sliver pebbles in it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing in witch school, have talking pets. As you can see here, I am slowly turning into trash by adding more rats and a crow. By the end of this fic, Corvo shall turn into a Disney prince. (Also: rats are actually very good swimmers and loyal pets who love to socialize so this is like a family now. I also do not like river krust but that really isn't the point.)
> 
> I'm joking, but seriously I'm tempted to do a crack fic of the Outsider as a whale godfather now. Enjoy the stupid fluffiness while you still can, people and have a nice day. Many thanks to my junior and sister for encouraging me to post this trash, imma go study now bye.
> 
> PS. that whole story bout the serpent and the kids was from my sis while we were talking on FB. Not sure if is already an existing myth, we were like throwing things into the story and that was my ending. Hers was they lived happily ever after in a cloud castle.
> 
> I have done that thing of dragging ppl back jus as the doors closed but it was currow instead of Campbell but I figured if u are reaaal sneaky you can do anything ;3


	3. Chapter 3

Corvo woke up with a violent jerk, nearly falling out of the hammock as he drew his sword. The dream of dark water and familiar cold hands holding him down quickly fading away when more clangs of metal came from the floor below, and he dropped his head back down with a groan after blinking away Dark Vision.

Granny Rags.

A few hours had passed since Corvo had fallen asleep, but sundown had yet to come. He turned away from the balcony and rubbed his eyes. He went down with a tired grumble for the rats, now somehow all over the place to get out of the way and found the lady turning the whole bedroom into a shrine. "Do I want to know how you got here?"

"The little birdies told me, dear." Granny replied without turning around, humming as she arranged the runes and bone charms all over the bed and table carefully. "They told me how lovely your new home was, and what a lovely place it is indeed. Just a little dull so I'm liven it up, could you pin this for me?"

"Did you move again?" he inquired while taking the nails and hammer from the floor beside her, moving to where she pointed. He held up the corner of royal purple fabric to nail to the ceiling.

"Hmm, yes. A new quiet place where nobody ever goes to, there's a way to the sewers in the cellar. The key's by the table." Granny cooed at a grey rat which nuzzled at her leg, scooping it up to hold it against her bosom. "Just follow the rats."

"A family of four used to stay here. Nobles, but the father was extremely paranoid, insisting they made several means to escape should anything happen. A passage to the sewers was one, like many nobles." she continued while moving the lanterns. The ominous glow that whale oil tended to radiate when touched by the Void shifted. "They said he worshiped the Outsider and went insane, killing his family one day and rats flooded out of the passage. He then fled to Morley when he was done."

Corvo stared at her from the corner of his eye, resisting the urge to fidget when she met his gaze and smiled. "But that's all just stories, dear. We have work to do, starting with Slackjaw." He frowned in confusion when she motioned to the table, blinking at the raven that was now sitting there with a piece of paper and a key beside it. "While that ruffian and his wild brats irk me, he can be of use to you for the brothers."

"Not going to kill him yet?" he absentmindedly asked as he read the letter, sweeping his hair over a shoulder when the bird fluttered onto the other. Corvo had done business with a few people back at the Distillery District. Slackjaw was one of them. Nothing special, picking out few traitors whose thoughts of overthrowing the boss were loud and bold and sometimes odd bone charms.

"I don't care how you're going to do it," the gang leader once stated when they met in person for the first time, eyeing Corvo up and down critically and smirking. "So long as you get the job done, black magic or whatnot, Slackjaw ain't gonna question nothing."

"I have plans for him," Granny smiled vaguely before heading downstairs, rats by both her and Corvo's heels.

He followed, rereading a particular sentence with a deep frown, "He wants a potion."

"Well I brought along a few gifts, the cauldron's at the fireplace. Granny has to go now, we'll see you later, dear."

"He wants a potion that makes people so high they see river krust dancing and proposing to them with their own pearls, and then die slowly. His words, not mine." Corvo stared at the letter with a bewildered expression and looked up, only to find the space where Granny Rags once stood empty. "Outsider's eyes."

"What about?" The witch took a deep breath, before making his way to the backroom, ignoring the deity's presence. True to her words, there was a cauldron and some ingredients on the table. "All I need is a broom and I would be the perfect witch." he muttered darkly and grabbed a pot to fill up with water to boil. At least she was nice enough to leave some tea leaves, but he would be needing something stronger than that to make this monstrosity.

"That would ruin your perfect face, Corvo. And where did you get the water?"

"Witchcraft." the human replied dryly while dumping said liquid that may or may not had came from two vials of Sokolov's Elixir (better than the river) into the pot, shoulders slumping as he dropped his forehead against the cold wall. "That's it, I'm going to ask Samuel to bring as much whiskey as his boat can carry later." The Outsider's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"But you don't drink."

"I'm sure I'll get the hang of it."

"You seem rather distressed over brewing a simple potion," Corvo ignored how the god drifted closer to look over his shoulder as he rearranged the table's contents, putting some in shelves and cupboards before getting a lather. "Does it bother you that people are seeking out your services?"

"Don't phrase it like that."

"Answer me, Corvo." The Outsider's words, dull but heavy with power made him stop mid-action of scooping up the now bubbling water.

Corvo placed the lather on the table, speaking slowly with subtle cold anger coloring his tone. "I never wanted any of this," He closed his eyes, voice dropping to a weak whisper and thoughts left unspoken. "Not this."

They stood in silence, the Outsider staring blankly at him while Corvo breathed and waited for some kind of punishment for the outburst. Perhaps the deity would take back its gift.

"You're doing this for her." Hands cold as death cupped the sides of his head after what felt like a long time, with such foreign gentleness that Corvo couldn't help but flinch and refuse to open his eyes. "For Emily. And what wrong is that?"

"It isn't." The human could feel the Void smile as it moved away, sinking back from this world. Corvo was alone when he finally looked, the slight burn of the mark told him otherwise. He didn't mind though, and made two cups of tea, leaving one in the shrine room and swore he heard the god chuckle as he left to meet Samuel.

"Good to see you're well and alive, Corvo." the boatman greeted him as he carefully stepped in the vessel. "Found anything good in there?"

"Plenty, but for now, I need to head back to the Hounds Pit. Any news?"

Samuel scratched his chin as they set off. "Well, the Admiral confirms that they will be receiving the rest of the information tonight. You planning to stay overnight?"

"Maybe," Corvo paused to direct Samuel of the new, safer route, the hours spent of shooting krust worth it. "... And how much alcohol can your boat hold?"

 

* * *

 

Brewing the poison was not as bad as expected. Getting some of the ingredients were a pain, but he found that the raven somehow knew how to carry letters to certain people. It was something he chalked up to it being the Outsider's messenger who was meant to constantly annoy him by cawing loudly, waking Corvo up with shiny objects around his head or fighting with the rats for a place to sit on his shoulders.

Slackjaw helped with odd bits of ingredients he himself couldn't get like a Tyvian striped viper's head, another thing Corvo didn't question on how he got it when he went to pick up a box Slackjaw had left in the sewers. Granny Rags insisted that he made the potion himself first, starting from a basic wine poison and going from there. Fortunately, he still had enough spare ingredients to make another brew if this one failed. It was time that he didn't. At least he didn't have to chant anything weird out loud, just under his breath or in his mind or outright nothing.

Corvo spent almost the whole day walking back and forth from the table to the cauldron, eyes fixed on the list of instructions in hand as rats ducked out of his way. Muttering to himself on how much deep sea hagfish venom should be added, he froze and activated Dark vision when the sound of a boat engine grew louder. He frowned and cleaned his hands with a cloth, knowing that Samuel didn't mention that he was coming and realized why.

The semi-familiar figure of Martin stepped into the ruined kitchen.

"Well, this is rather... heretical of you." he remarked, glancing at the cauldron, rats and at Corvo's appearance. The latter's long hair was pulled back into a messy bun and around his neck was a necklace of seashells and bone the rats found along the riverside. They weren't anything special, but after a few tries Corvo managed to weave a spell of silence into it. The enchantment to keep movement unheard, whether it was running past a guard or falling from a height, only sounds audible were from the wearer's own mouth. Appearance aside, he only wore it to let it soak in the magic around his person in order to strengthen it.

Corvo crossed his arms, but knew that it was already too late to hide the Mark when the Overseer smirked. Dripping with confidence, devious and a hunger for power and control. This was a man who knew what he wanted, reminding the witch of a well hidden knife or a snake patiently waiting and he didn't even try hard to peer into the other man's thoughts.

"Not to worry, Corvo. I don't intend to sell you out to the Abbey. It's in too much of a mess to do anything, thanks to you."

How he cursed himself for allowing that damn bird to steal his left glove.

Martin brushed off imaginary dust from his shoulder, eyeing the rats. "I was sent by the Admiral to convince you to join us. He thought about sending Callista, but thank goodness he didn't. Poor woman would had suffered a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, Corvo." Samuel said quietly, a pained look on his face from the window. "They insisted that Martin come because you didn't give an answer."

"I've got a plan to take care of the Pendletons." Corvo kept his voice neutral and expression cold, but gave a small nod to the boatman. "The ship will reach Morley with them missing and nobody will know." The witch turned back to the table, using a piece of charcoal to cross out the amount of bittervines needed. He heard Martin shift closer, telling Samuel, "Leave us please."

The old sailor threw a worried glance at Corvo but reluctantly went back to the boat when Martin gave him a look. The Overseer turned back to the other with a relaxed grin, watching Corvo stir the pot.

"You know, Lydia has a spare broom you could borrow." The witch decided he really didn't like this one. Under the teasing, light-hearted view was fascination. A thought of how useful it could be if used right ringing loud and clear from the clergyman.

"Don't tell me that you're not interested in ending the Lord Regent's reign?" Martin's grin grew at how Corvo's body tensed, the rats peeking from holes and dark corners of the room shifting at their human's uneasiness. "Of course not," he continued at the voiceless response, "but I can see that you're doing things your own special way."

"I'd let the rats eat you, but I don't feed them trash."

The insult seemed to fly over Martin's head. "Speaking of rats, I'm surprised I don't see any cats here. Would had completed the image you're going for. Dunwall needs to get over their love for dogs, perhaps the plague would had died down if they introduced felines from our homelands." he said with a shrug, observing as Corvo threw something into the pot with a little more force than necessary.

"I really hope you didn't come here to talk about cats, Overseer."

Martin snorted, "I want Campbell's black journal and before you claim you don't have it, Geoff Currow himself confessed to me that it was you who branded Campbell." And at Corvo's alarmed look, he added. "He was worried and wanted closure, I just gave it to him. He's safe and I told him that you were with us, there was also enough evidence to point out Campbell's plan to murder him so the captain got off innocent."

"You're already climbing up the ranks to High Overseer from what I've heard, you don't need it." The rats had told him of the men who accused Martin, all now weeping for death. It was only a matter of time before he sat in Campbell's chair. Corvo narrowed his eyes as Martin gave a sigh and rubbed his chin.

"That's true, but it would be significantly easier with it. You know how the Abbey's currently in half, I'm leading the one, but then there's Overseer Asher, and he wants the title just as much." He grinned lightly. "How about we make a deal, give me the book and I'll do everything in power to help you in whatever cause."

To Corvo's surprise, there was a sincere emotion when Martin spoke. An honest want to assist, knowing it could gain the favor of a witch and leverage few others would have; and under that, a deadly but intriguing promise for more. The trust, he would never, however how useful the offers were too much to decline immediately."You could kill him."

"Yes, but getting blood off the uniform's fabric is a pain and hiring assassins are expensive. Plus, this way there would be no need to tell anyone that you're kissing the Outsider's boots." Corvo put down the item in hand back on the table, turning to fix a cold stare at him. Forget the offers. "I could kill you."

"But you won't, because that would disappoint the people you befriended." The witch nearly took a step back when Martin walked closer, voice lowering and still smiling, "Samuel, Callista, they like you but they would look at you with nothing but fear if you killed me. Six months in Coldridge still haunts you and there are so little people out there who can truly be trusted. Do yourself a favor, Corvo, give me the book."

Ignoring the urge to stab the Overseer in the eye, Corvo slowly walked over to a cupboard by the sink. He had been planning to burn it, the idea of power in ink and paper was an uneasy one but he shoved the book into Martin's chest anyway. "Now leave."

"Thanks. And at least let me buy you some drinks at the pub, I never got to thank you for releasing me from the stocks."

"If I'd known you were a skimming bastard, I should had left you there." Martin smiled and Corvo proceeded to ignore him, but that was a mistake.

The Overseer darted behind him, grabbing hold of Corvo's left wrist tightly while pinning him against the table with his body. Corvo elbowed the older man in the gut, hard enough to twist around and slip out his bone knife with his free hand. They stood chest to chest, Martin leaning his weight to the witch pressing the sharpened bone to his neck. The Overseer grinned, teeth bared and straining as Corvo snarled back."Funny, I thought you'd had enjoyed the view, witch."

A flash of light, Void blue and dark tatter like feathers and Corvo could breathe again, standing at the far side of the room. He didn't intend to do that, to have Martin be aware of what the Outsider's gifts could do, but was grateful otherwise as he returned the snark. "Like my standards are that low."

Martin turned to him, a look of slight awe at the display on the Overseer's face before he chuckled. They could hear the rats hissing and closing in, going for the kill when a scream had everyone pausing. Perched on the window was the raven screeching its lungs off, the small piece of rolled up paper tied to its leg nearly flying off as it bristled.

"Fitting pets you keep," Martin raised a brow at it, ducking slightly when it swooped and missed his head by only a few inches when he turned to leave. "Again, thank you for the book. I will keep my end of the bargain. Come over to the pub when you're done with the Pendleton twin. See you soon, Corvo."

He waited until the sound of Samuel's boat could no longer be heard before slumping against a wall. The rats crowded around him with hurried squeaks of concern, not reacting even when the raven hopped onto his shoulder and pecked at his head. After a particularly harsh peck, Corvo reached up to stroke its head and back while slipping the note from its leg. Slackjaw's bold but oddly neat cursive handwriting dead center on it.

'Come over at least fifteen minutes before two. Bring the poison and a good knife.'

Corvo slowly got up, intending to make his way to the cellar where most of the alcohol was kept. When he returned with a bottle of rum in hand, he found the rats on one of the cupboards, nudging a glass cup out and over the edge. He swiftly caught it before it hit the floor, lightly brushing the coats of those rats before filling the glass.

"Think it's ready?" the witch asked out loud, unsure whether to himself or the other residents of the room. There wasn't a way to really test out the poison unless he wanted to spend the next twenty-four hours on the floor seeing galaxies and beyond what the human mind should see, before dying, nor did Granny Rags give any real clues besides hagfish venom and wrath flowers for deadliness. Corvo also certainly had no intention of testing it on any of his rats.

"Sokolov tests his on other humans, and there are plenty corrupted souls everywhere." a rat hissed and there were chirps of agreement from the pack, but Corvo simply frowned in disgust. Whatever rumors Sokolov did was his own business, especially with the plague.

 _"I think it's almost done, just needs more deadly sweet,"_  sniffed the little white rat who had managed to climb above the fireplace, beady eyes blinking at Corvo. The witch reached over to move the rat away from danger when he paused and looked down at the rum in hand. Scooping the rodent and plopping her onto the floor with her brethren, he tilted the bottle and poured its content into the pot. He watched it hiss and splutter, the color shifting from a murky green to a golden brown shade abruptly.

Corvo stared at it, barely hearing the rats chitter about the sudden new scent and delighted approval over the corvid's startled caws from behind. He swore he could hear Granny Rags laughing, or was that the Outsider? "What have I done."

 _"At least Slackjaw can claim it's moonshine."_  claimed a scrawny brown rat as it tried to climb up his leg,  _"Either way it's going to kill someone."_

"That's not the point."

When Samuel came the next day, he took one look at the box of 'moonshine' and at Corvo's somewhat frazzled appearance. Torn between worry, helpless amusement and guilt for yesterday, he settled for a loud cough. "You alright, sir?"

"Could have be better, thank you." was Corvo's quiet answer as he double-checked the things he brought. More remedies than elixirs, Piero's weapons and the mask. He didn't like the morbid skull grinning up at him, but if he was going to seen, he might as well put it to use. "To the Distillery District, Samuel. I'm meeting someone."

"Can this someone be trusted?" The boatman's genuine concern was the only thing stopping Corvo from snapping at him, on edge still from the surprise visit and the potion's result.

"Honestly, no, but I like him better than other people." He thanked Samuel for the ride when they docked, summoning a small forced smile when the older man wished him luck as he made his way to the Bottle Street's base. The mask felt heavy and cold on his face, but it did its job when Slackjaw's boys stared at him with uneasiness. The gang members glared at him when he walked past, arms full with the box he brought. Most of them avoided him except for a bald man who splat in his path. Corvo simply side-stepped and made a note to have the man wake up covered in rats.

"Aye, there he is." Slackjaw greeted, turning away from two of his men who stepped back when he came in. The leader put his cigar in an ashtray as Corvo placed the box on his desk, crossing his arms. "So, this is it huh?"

"Half a quarter mixed with whiskey is enough to do; one whole bottle would kill a man too quickly." Corvo frowned slightly at his own words, but it went unseen as Slackjaw nodded.

"Tested it out yet?" he asked with a raised brow but didn't wait for Corvo to answer, looking at his men. "Boys, fetch Jimmy here. I've got a bone to pick with him." The pair left and the boss grabbed one of the bottles and a glass, filling it up to half and giving Corvo a grin. "Let's see what you made in action, eh? We'll talk 'bout the payment in a moment."

"I didn't do anything, boss!" a brute of a man said too quickly, shoved onto his knees by the two men previous pushing him in. The two wore sneers, their cleavers out. "If anything, it's fucking Alec."

"You think so, Jimmy? 'Cause I remember sending out a share to the Golden Cat and you were on duty that day. They only got half the elixir they ordered and y'know how that Prudence bitch likes to complain." Slackjaw crocked his head at the kneeling man, "But y'know what? I'm a fair man who's willing to listen." He gestured to the glass on the table. "Have a drink, a new recipe we got from Karnaca."

Jimmy looked at it and back at Slackjaw and nervously took the drink, knocking it back with one shot. Slackjaw sat back in his chair, watching the man with an amused look. "I'm a fair man who listens, but not to lying scumbags, you get what I mean? How's it taste?"

"Uh," The man looked up in fear and confused and licked his lips. "It's good, actually? Better than-" his body suddenly stiffened and he fell onto his side, glass still in hand and his eyes gazed and wide.

"He dead?" One of the two men frowned and nudged Jimmy with a boot, his eyebrows rising into his hairline when they hear a quiet: "There's a whale in my pocket."

Corvo and the other two stared at Jimmy in horror as he started whispering about how they could cook eggs with a Wall of Light, turning their gazes to Slackjaw when he busted out into gruff laughter.

"This," he wheezed and took a deep breath. "This is great. Clean this mess. Karl, gather up some boys with good sealegs. Both of you keep your mouths shut and you'll get a raise. We're heading out." Still chuckling slightly, Slackjaw wiped a tear from his eye. "Gotta say, Corvo, you keep your ends." The former Lord Protector tensed at his name being said but nodded. "Few drops of those and the whole City Watch would be under, high off their asses. I'll test it out more later. Now, we talk."

"The twins." Corvo said distantly, his mind still on the fact of what had he just created.

"Aye, those pigshits in suits. Slackjaw has a friend with a ship, the Red Lady, she's called, old but solid thing she is." The boss took out a map of Dunwall, red circles and lines along the Wrehaven River and he traced one. "Plan's simple. My boys and I'll tail their ship while you go on board and thrash 'em when we go pass the barricades. There'll be guards of course, but we got you covered. A bunch of boys already snuck on as guards—like their attitude has any difference—and bribed most of the actual guards and a River Patrol boat on duty to shut up. Of course, there's gonna be some loyal dogs left, mostly officers paid in good coin, so watch yourself. Give a signal, throw a whale oil tank off the side or something, and we'll come over for you to dump 'em on. That way, we keep them up and kickin' long enough to spill while the boat finishes its journey unnoticed. Sound good?"

He grinned lopsidedly when Corvo nodded with a sound of approval, offering a hand and shaking the witch's with vigor when taken. "Let's be off then."

They walked out with a dozen men behind over to the docks, in full view of anyone. Corvo tensed when a couple of guards on duty spotted them, but they merely turned away. When he turned to the other for an explanation, Slackjaw patted a pouch hanging on his belt.

As promised, a ship weathered and marked by years of use but still strong stood waiting for them, the fading bold words and an image of a woman in a rusty red dress at the side. Boarding it, Slackjaw proceeded to order the men around as they set sail.

"Ex-sailors and whalers some of 'em." he said proudly to Corvo who stood by the side as they watched them work. "Was a dream of mine once, being a pirate king, but this is close enough."

They set off, lurking by the barricades when someone gave a shout. A rich ship, taller than the Red Lady so Corvo would have no choice but to Blink, sailed closer and he grimaced at the thought. Slackjaw leaned against the railing at the side as the barricades slowly opened, glancing at the witch. "As soon as we get through, the boys are gonna start something to slow the ship down and that's your cue. Look for a man in a guard's uniform who's blind in one eye on the upper deck. Keith'll tell you where the Pendleton's are at." A nonchalant shrug. "Would have sent Crowley, but he's dead."

The Pendleton's ship passed them without any issues, a number of guards looking over the side and nodded and Slackjaw made a vague wave. The Red Lady followed them and as the barricades started to close behind, there was a loud bang on board the larger ship and smoke rose from it. Corvo carefully stood on rusting railings, Mark glowing as their ship drifted closer and closer before he Blinked up and reached out to possess the closest body: a shouting officer, panicking about the explosion. Corvo shoved the man's startled conscious back before it could start fighting, hearing muffled cries of shock from the Red Lady behind as he quickly walked to the closest door and swung it open.

To his luck, it lead to a whale oil tank closet and Corvo kicked the door shut, leaving and choking out the officer swiftly before looking around with Dark Vision. Two officers below him, one walking upstairs and four guards on the same floor, but those were Slackjaw's men. Corvo made the choice of waiting and grabbing the officer when the man walked past, quietly exiting the closet with sword at the ready. He carefully peered around to find the stairs and a guard waving at him from a corner.

"Hey, you!" A pair of brown and milky eyes told him enough while the guard pointed at the other impersonators to play scout. Corvo hesitated for a few heartbeats, before carefully approaching.

"That's one fucked up mask, but it's good. Them nobles had it coming, nobody better than Death doing it." Keith splat on the side and gave a toothy grin. "On to the beef, the twins should be in their room, lower deck far right, Custis's seasick but Morgan has a habit of walking 'round."He shrugged, mumbling something about being an over-paranoid bastard and went on. "There's two ways down there, by the stairs where there's shit tons of guards down there and while Slackjaw bribed most of 'em, don't trust them. The second way if you're a cat with nine lives to spare, is down the window straight to the twin's room. One of the boys broke the lock before they came on but it's a drop to the waters if you slip."

Nodding, Corvo turned to the direction where Keith pointed to, walking to the side of the boat and peering over the edge when the man called out once more. "Oh yeah! There's also got this idea of you ringing the service bell in that room when you're ready, we can make a big distraction if you wanna, just an idea."

He turned back to the objective, hearing the distant shout of a Bottle Street thug to ensure the officers below deck that nothing serious happened. The mentioned window was more than two stories down but there was a ledge wide enough for him to stand on, barely, if he was careful with his Blink. Necklace or not, he knew that blinking directly on it would result in injury and him grunting in pain so there was one way. He hopped over the railings and clung on the other side when shouts started from further down. Someone had found the unconscious body, probably an actual guard and Slackjaw's men went running to silence the noise. Corvo braced himself, and let go.

The wind whistled past his ears, the dark coat he wore out flapping wildly. He ignored it, and the feeling of his gut dropping as his appending doom of cold brine rushed closer, forcing himself to wait precious seconds to fall past the window.

He Blinked up and grabbed onto the ledge, holding on, allowing himself to breathe for a moment. Two yellow bodies in the room, one on a bed and possibly sleeping; the other figure, Morgan, walked out. The witch counted under his breath as Morgan's silhouette faded away, before he swiftly pulled himself up and silently pushed open the window. He pondered on ignoring Custis since he was unaware but thought better of it.

The chance of him waking up while Corvo was choking his brother out when he returned was too high. It felt oddly grim and somewhat dirty as Corvo kneeled on the bed and wrapped his hands around the noble's neck. Perhaps it was like cheating, or the fact that they probably had a whore on the same bed as Custis woke up choking, and blacked out seconds later. Corvo got up and looked behind, the yellow outline of Morgan returning however with an officer behind him.

"Please, sir. It's better that you stayed inside, I know the guards are patrolling but there is still a risk of an assassin."

Corvo ducked behind an elaborate Tyvian folding screen for dressing, watching as the two came closer.

"Don't tell me what to do, General. This is my ship and I have every right to walk wherever and whenever I want." Morgan answered with a scowl, opening the door quietly with strained effort as not wanting to wake his twin. "Report."

"Besides the boiler on the upper deck blowing up, there's been no sightings of the navy. Upstairs report only the whaling trawlers."

"Good. If you must worry, go up the deck and check that boiler."

"Yes, sir." The general gave a slight bow and walked away while Morgan sighed as he closed the door. Corvo hooked his arm around his neck before he could turn, dragging him back to the bed as he choked the other man out.

Depositing the second twin onto the bed, the former Lord Protector did a quick check around the room, looting as many interesting things he could. While he didn't need it, Piero would have appreciated it, even though the inventor had bags full of strange items that Corvo had found or harvested around the Flooded District. He had given Lydia a few spare blankets of thick wool and some cans of eel, but they probably needed more with the worsening situation at the Hound Pits. More than a dozen men were patrolling outside, but scattered and some looked ready to fall asleep.

He could sneak the twins out one at a time by hiding in nearby closets and corners. as troublesome as it was. There was also an aforementioned service bell that Corvo had found, but that raised a question of whether any of the guards would come in to check. Another way was back the way he came, which was the most riskiest of them all.

Corvo shrugged and walked over to a table lavished with fruits, stuffing all but a bunch of Serkonan grapes into his bag. He lifted his mask up slightly to fill his mouth with them, giving himself time to think. He decided that while the bell idea was helpful, the distraction would be more of a hassle and too short. Even though he was stronger than before Coldridge, thanks to the Outsider, Corvo couldn't carry two grown men and be stealthy about it.

With a determined nod, the witch wiped his mouth with a tablecloth and hauled up one of the Pendleton's over his shoulder, grunting at the weight of the well-fed noble. Activating his other sight, Corvo stepped out of the room and held his breath.

The world turned colorless, muted and stopped.

He Blinked past the guards, ducking into the shadows under the stairs leading to the upper deck when the increasing pain in his head became too much and time flowed once more. Corvo forced himself to breathe slowly and quietly when an officer's voice above, too close for comfort, called out.

"Don't let me catch you slacking off again and if you see him, tell him to get back to work! The Pendleton's will cut our pay if something bad happens when we reach Wynnedown."

An echo of 'yes sir's followed the man as he walked down the wooded steps, grumbling about new recruits until Corvo cut him off with an arm around the neck.

Dumping the Watch officer's body behind and scooping up the Pendleton haphazardly thrown aside, Corvo spotted one of the Bottle Street members as he snuck up the stairs. "Hide him and signal Slackjaw as soon as I come up with the other one." said Corvo as he passed the snoring target over to the other, briefly passing the whale oil closet he had hid earlier in. There were bloodstains and Keith, who stood beside the door, grinned and pointed to the side of the vessel. Corvo tried not to think too much as he dropped back down to the Pendleton's room again, the other twin on his shoulder and ready to repeat the cycle when-

_Ding-ding-ding!_

He froze, already out of the room and a good distance away. Dark Vision showed a swinging blue bell mechanism... but there wasn't anyone standing near it. No yellow shape, human or rat and Corvo knew he had closed the window behind him so a strong breeze was ruled out.

_Ding-ding-ding!_

Corvo backed away into a small toilet in the corridor and dropped the body. Instincts told him to run, to get away but curiosity begged him to stay, holding on to him like a clingy child urging for him to at least peek through the keyhole. He heard shouting from above and running, leaving him alone with just the target. Questioning his sanity (lost to the Outsider—probably), he carefully crept back to the door and pushed it open.

Nothing. The otherworldly sight leaving him and found nothing, but then the bell rang again.

_Ding-ding- **slam!**_

Arm still hurting from throwing the door shut, he left the room and Blinked up to the upper deck faster than he honestly should have. Stumbling a little, Corvo saw a crowd of angry confusion at the far end of the ship as Keith carried the other target to the opposite side. Neither the guards nor false ones noticed when the witch went to the side and saw Slackjaw's ship.

He didn't hesitate to Blink down and shove the Pendleton into the arms of a lackey, before going back up to grab the other from Keith. Said man stared at him in a new light. Corvo ignored him, teleporting back down when someone gave a shout. The Red Lady turned, engine rumbling and making swift distance from the target's ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/12 EDIT: Hello! This is the chapter we left off. Thank you for reading thus far! - mei


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ERRORS: Space for first couple of paragraphs. We couldn't fix it. Sorry about that.  
> Update 30/4: removed random spacing?

"Slackjaw's in the cabin."

Corvo grunted and followed the man who spoke up, brushing off the stares of the crew around.

"Like one of Daud's," The former Lord Protector heard one hiss to another. He turned his head slightly to the voice's direction but they didn't continue.

Daud.

An odd feeling bubbled up when he mouthed the word, and it disturbed him how he couldn't tell whether it was good or bad. The witch settled for the latter, brushing it off as he stepped into the cabin. He would ask the rats afterwards; they had better gossip and truths than any aristocrats or broker.

The cabin was dim and large, with only a table and two chairs in the middle of the room, in which the Pendleton twins were tied to. Slackjaw stood by the table, picking up the simple tools and inspecting it before settling them back down to nod at Corvo when he walked over. A very slim knife, hammer, bolt cutters, spring razors and a few bottles of whiskey. Corvo quickly turned his attention away to the targets. The image of the torturer standing over him made him bite his tongue.

"I only need to know who did it, that's all." Corvo said firmly and the gang leader glanced at him, causally switching which hand held a cleaver.

"Guess they did a number on you in that hellhole, eh?" Slackjaw huffed and rolled his shoulders, shifting to grab the bucket of water behind. "Either way, they might a bit of coaxing to talk but don't worry. Nobles like them spill fast."

The Pendleton's jerked awake with gasps as freezing water hit them. Startled and panicked mumbles fell from their lips as they tried to move, but the ropes held fast. The chairs were positioned to face away from each other and a few feet apart, allowing them to barely see the other from only the corners of their eyes if they turned their heads.

"Brother?! Brother, where-" one of them shouted, eyes wide and wild as he struggled, but to no avail.

"I'm here, Morgan! What's going on, who are you people?!" Custis strained against the rope around his neck, looking behind at his twin.

"We're people who won't hurt you too much if you do as we say," Slackjaw started, leaning against the table with a lazy grin, in full view of the twins when they turned to face him. He raised the cleaver and tilted it so that it gleamed in the candlelight on the table behind. "Don't make this hard for us and Slackjaw will let you keep a finger or two."

"Slackjaw, we've seen your posters. What do you want, filth?" Morgan splat, teeth grinding as he glared fiercely, but jerked back when Slackjaw came closer, casually waving the cleaver inches away from his nose.

"Yeah, well the face on those ain't as handsome as the real thing." Slackjaw pressed the cool flat side of the blade against Morgan's cheek. "I say you watch that tongue or I'll cut it out for you." He paused and glanced over to Corvo, who stood in the shadows of the cabin with folded arms and a grim expression. "Slackjaw will do it later anyway."

"Get away from him! What do you want, Slackjaw?! Money? Women?" Sneering, Custis held his head up and attempted to stare the said man down. "We can't get you a place amongst the aristocrats but surely we could do something else."

"Pfft, like I give a flying damn for your little ring of fancy-dressed gossipers and backstabbers. I've already got money and my bed warm. No, Slackjaw wants information about the Empress's kid, so talk."

The twins were in a nervous quiet, uneasy gazes jumping around the room and Slackjaw let them keep it up for a full minute before he got bored, picking the slim knife and sinking it into Morgan's right thigh.

"Stop, stop! We kept her in a guest room of our manor for the first few months okay!" Custis yelled over his brother's stifled screams, blood trailing down Morgan's lips when the nobleman bit them in a struggling attempt to hold back his cries. "Then we moved her to the Golden Cat when Prudence and Campbell agreed, but then she got out and Lord Riley saw her so we had to move her back to the house and pay him to shut up!"

" _Who did it_."

They looked over at Corvo who walked over to stand over Custis, fist tightly clenched and trembling from resisting the urge to just end them right there.

A whorehouse, they hid her in a whorehouse.

Custis stared up at him with a conflicted look, before shaking violently when Slackjaw pushed the knife deeper into Morgan's leg and twisted it. Gasping and on the verge of tears, Morgan wheezed to his other, "Don't."

Slackjaw and Corvo shared a glance before the gang leader yanked the knife out from Morgan unsparingly and walked over to Custis, grabbing a hand and slowly inserting the blade just above the noble's index and middle fingers, avoiding bone and any major veins.

'You can leave', Slackjaw mouthed to the witch. He shrugged when he didn't get a response. Instead, he went back to the table and held up a spring razor. "You know boys," he said when Custis's shouts died down to whimpers, walking over to Morgan to hold the device in front of him. "We can do this all day, and Slackjaw's just getting started."

"F-fuck you!" Morgan snarled and splat on the floor, missing the gangster's boot by an inch. "Fuck you and your whore mother! Fuc-" He choked as Slackjaw grabbed his jaw harshly and forced his mouth open, screaming openly as the gangster unsheathed a dagger from his belt and grabbed his tongue.

A simple twist of the wrist left Morgan with his tongue split in half from the middle to the tip, gurgling on his own blood. Slackjaw nonchalantly walked back to the table to clean his hands and blade with a towel. "Mind you, she was a pleasant, but sad woman." He raised a brow at Corvo who stared in his direction. "What? I'll have the rest cut out later and he won't die. Maybe go into shock, but we only need one to talk anyway."

"Brother! Morgan hang in there!" Custis pleaded in tears, a choked sob escaping him when Slackjaw slapped the hand with the knife embedded. "Please just, stop. I'll talk. Just, no more."

"Go on,"

"I- we really don't know what happened that day. We were at the Cat when the girl somehow broke out through the backdoor and snuck out to the garden gates." He paused to breath heavily and swallowed. "A maid said that she was on the second floor when she heard a crash outside and looked out the window to see two figures for a split second before they suddenly vanished into thin air. We sacked her."

Corvo perked up and Slackjaw glanced at him, before the Bottle Street leader stepped closer. "And?"

"The girl was dead when the servants reached her. That's it, that's all we know now let us go!"

"No, no," Slackjaw grabbed a fist full of Custis's hair and made him look up at him. "That's not what I heard. I heard that little Emily bled out on the stairs and that those gates were wide open. Why in the Void would she be found on the stairs?"

"How the fuck should I know?! Someone could had been hiding there and the brat ran back and got killed!"

"I feel like I've been focusing on your brother too much," The gang leader frowned and brought the spring razor back in the noble's face. "Keep talking, what did the pair look like?"

"They..." Custis's words sped up as the spring razor came closer and Slackjaw's finger pressed the trigger hard. "One was in red and the other dark, she couldn't see well but the dark one was wearing something like a whaler's mask- get that away from me!"

He screamed and twisted away as Slackjaw tossed the device of death to the far corner of the cabin, the gangster chuckling as he shook his head at the panting noble. "Gets them every time."

"Is that it?" Corvo hissed and Slackjaw shrugged, motioning to the table.

"You can break his kneecaps if you wanna."

The former Royal Protector bristled as he yanked Custis's collar forward, shaking the man violently. "There has to be more!"

"Easy there, Death." Corvo twitched at the nickname as the boss walked over to the cabin's door. "He just needs more persuading. Hey boys! Take this one out and shake him up, make sure he cries loud and good."

Morgan let out incoherent screams as a Bottle Street member grabbed the back of his chair and dragged him out while Custis thrashed around his bonds. "W-what are you doing?! Let him go please! Morgan! Morgan!" The remaining Pendleton began to choke and gasp, as if hyperventilating as his twin's screams and the men's laughter came through the door. "Burrows! Burrows and Sokolov know! Hiram's calling a search for 'em, that's all I know! Outsider's eyes stop, stop, stop please just stop!"

"Welp, I think we've done him dry." With a shrug, Slackjaw pulled out the slim blade from the man's hand and wiped it with the cloth, before stuffing the latter into Custis's mouth to muffle his yells. He turned to the witch. "Any loose ends you wanna tie up?"  
Corvo looked down at the sobbing and shaking noble, the scent of blood and piss becoming too familiar. He should kill them, save them from whatever Slackjaw had installed for them. "They're all yours."

He tried to ignore the growing sick feeling in his gut as he walked past a crowd of Slackjaw's men, surrounding a wailing Morgan who was being forced to swallow a rat's head. Their taunts and laughter died down until Corvo went further away, before Slackjaw himself left the cabin to shout orders for them to stop fooling around and lock the twins in the deck below.

The former Lord Protector remained at the head of the ship. Nobody approached nor spoke to him. He relished in the peaceful silence underlined with the guilty knowledge that Slackjaw was not going to let the Pendleton twins' suffering end too soon. He dropped off at the docks and found Samuel smoking and trying to fend off a familiar bird from pecking the cigarette.

"Sir," The boatman paused to stare at the Bottle Street gang leaving the Red Lady a few minutes after the former Lord Protector, and the young raven took advantage of his stunned moment to snatch the stick and flutter onto the edge of his boat. Samuel opened his mouth and closed it, grasping for words and settled for, "You finished what you came for?"

Corvo nodded and sat down, tugging the cigarette from the bird's beak and ignoring its angry caws when he tossed it into the water. Samuel's expression was near physical concern as he started the engine, Corvo complied by removing the mask in an effort to assure the older man, locking gazes with him. "I'm fine, Samuel."

"You obviously am not," A mildly annoyed look crossed Samuel's face for a moment, before it morphed into a resigned one. "But if you don't wish to tell me, I don't blame you. Sometimes our actions can't be helped." The boatman sighed and set off, giving Corvo brief update about the Loyalists before falling silent. Admiral Havelock was in his room, Lord Pendleton was at the bar drinking and Martin was out somewhere. Samuel guiltily noted that Corvo relaxed moderately at the last point.

Corvo set off to meet Havelock first, knocking twice and walking in when the older man responded. He gave a short report of the Pendleton twins' removal, bypassing the details of the new drug and the interrogation.

"So, you worked with Slackjaw huh?" It was the second time the Admiral asked, the first with look of surprise and respect but it didn't make Corvo feel any less weary. He just really wanted to go back to the house. "That's good. Despite being a throat cutter, we could use an ally like him. Knowing him, the twins are as good as dead. And what of the ship? Would the guards come back and report them missing?"

Havelock ignored how Corvo closed his eyes for a few seconds and sighed quietly, answering himself as he turned to his desk and book. "No. If they did, the Lord Regent would have them executed for treason and helping them escape in the first place. Well done, Corvo."

The witch took this as his leave and turned, reluctantly pausing at opening the door when the Admiral called out. "Oh and it might be better if you don't inform Lord Pendleton of this. I'll personally tell him later, so rest now, Corvo. You can stay upstairs or we'll sent Samuel to pick you up when we have another lead."

Grunting, Corvo made his way downstairs quietly by the stairs in the wine storage, nodding to Lydia who was fussing over at the beds and nearly bumping into Cecelia at the bottom.

"Sorry," she whispered and slipped past him, wincing at the crash of glass and looking at him with wide eyes. "His Lordship is really drunk at the moment and Lydia had me and Callista serve him."

"And Wallace?" Corvo's voice was a low murmur as muffled shouts for more wine and women came from the bar and the redhead stood on her tiptoes, groping for a bottle hidden behind a barrel too high.

"Not sure, he went back to the Pendleton manor this morning I think." She gave a small smile when Corvo helped her, taking it and sighing. "Thanks. Well, back to work I guess."

Frowning, the man followed her and saw Pendleton slumped over a table with empty bottles littered in front of him as he held up his almost finished glass. "Laaady. I wanna r'fill. Now."

"Pardon milord, but you're drunk." Callista deadpanned, standing behind the bar, looking frazzled and tired. She nodded to Cecelia when the younger lady placed the bottle on the table.

Lord Pendleton sat up and sneered at her. "Wretch, I'm payin' for you to serve me. Watch y'ur tongue or ey' will have you whipp'd." He paused and his lips twitched into a wide smirk. "Bet you 'ould like 'hat, won'cha?"

Callista gaped at the noble and clenched her fists, seemly ready to walk over and lecture him when Corvo stopped her with a hand. She glared at him with narrowed eyes, letting him tug her back to the bar. "It's not worth it, Callista. He's out of it."

"I've seen them and taught their kids," she hissed back and shifted her glare past Corvo at the man. "Noble or not, I'm getting sick of this."

He stared down at her for a long moment, weighting the consequences and sighing. Callista shot him a look of skeptical confusion when he turned away to grab a glass, filling it with water that smelt of the river before handing it to her. "What? You want me to calm down?"

"Like you said, he's drunk." Corvo shrugged and gave her a small lighthearted grin, motioning to Lord Pendleton with his head. "Good chance he won't remember you splashing water at his face."

Cecelia peeked out from the corner of the bar, trying to look busy wiping it. "But if he does?"

"Then I'll do it and if anything happens, Samuel will take you to Currow."

Callista straightened up at the mention of her uncle and Corvo saw her fighting to keep her expression neutral, surprise morphing into slight worry and then gratefulness.

"Thanks, Corvo." she murmured and took the glass, walking over to Pendleton, who now had his head on the table and tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked up, Callista threw the contents at him and backed away as Corvo slipped in front of her, blocking the spluttering noble's view of her.

"Wha-what is 'tis?! What's goin' on? Wallace!" Lord Pendleton rubbed his face with wet sleeves, coughing and shaking his head as he tried to make sense what just happened. He froze when he caught sight of Corvo looming over him.

"Lord P'otecter, y-you're back," the noble mumbled and stood up wobbly after a few tries, grabbing hold of Corvo's shirt and shook him weakly. "What...did 'ou do to 'em?! My 'rathers!" Pendleton's trembles suddenly grew weak as he slumped back down in his seat, staring up at the younger man as he whispered wide-eyed. "You... _killed_ 'em, didn't you?"

"My lord!" The sudden shout from the doorway facing Piero's workshop made all but Pendleton jump as Wallace rushed in, nudging Corvo aside without a care. "Goodness, what happened?" The butler shot Callista a look as if she was the cause of the plague.

"He spilled water on himself." the witch answered with an impassive look and Wallace turned back to his master, fussing about a change of clothes before he caught a cold. "Excuse us, sir." Wallace stated, and Corvo moved aside as the devoted servant pulled Pendleton up, carefully walking the drunken man to the stairs.

They waited until Wallace's footsteps and Pendleton's insisting slurs that he wasn't drunk trailed away, followed by a slam of the door. Corvo turned to them. "You two alright?"

"Could had gone worse," Callista smiled tiredly at him and walked over to Pendleton's table to clean up, "Thank you, Corvo. For that," Her grew voice lower, smile brighter. "And my uncle."

He didn't know whether to ask if everyone knew or just her and Martin did, but nodded anyway. He helped her take a few glasses and brought them to Cecelia to wash or throw. "Anything new?"

The redhead sighed and leaned her arms on the table. "Getting colder now, but Samuel found a few blankets yesterday so it's okay I think."

"More rats though," Callista spoke up from further down the tables nearer to the stove, "Lydia said she saw a pack rush out from the closed off apartments before they went down the sewers. Overseer Martin thinks they came from the Flooded District. Not too farfetched considering how close this place is."

Corvo remained silent, pondering if he should leave as Cecelia turned to the other woman. "Do you really think so? I overheard the Admiral say that he's going to take the place as High Overseer, but the Abbey's in pieces."

A new voice, smooth and familiar, spoke; "It was."

"Outsider, why." Corvo muttered under his breath as Martin strolled in the door, a pleasant smile directed to Cecelia who squeaked at his sudden appearance.

"Anything can be mended, from a broken fraction to a wounded heart if you have faith." the Overseer continued and stopped beside the witch. "Good day, Corvo. How was the mission?"

He gave a neutral grunt, already heading for the other door when Martin grabbed his arm firmly. "Leaving so soon? Thought I could buy you that drink since you're here." Corvo opened his mouth to bite out an excuse when the Overseer added, "Unless you're in a rush. Did you leave a fire alone? Don't worry, it will just be a glass or two."

Hiding a frown, Corvo let the other man guide him back to the seats by the bar, posture stiff and still on edge from their previous meeting and how the Overseer's hand lingered for a few seconds longer.

"Callista, could you bring us a drink or two please?"

The young woman flushed slightly at the charming smile Martin offered, swiftly moving further down to the other bend of the bar to fetch the better liquor left untouched by their residential aristocrat.  
Corvo raised a brow as Martin watched her leave, resisting the urge to lean away when the older man chuckled, voice lowered with meaning. "Out of the people here, she's one of the more nicer on the eyes; besides you and myself of course. Don't you think?"

"You're being awfully civilized today."

"Well, being selected to be the new High Overseer does that to people and when am I not?" He wore a smug grin at Corvo's impassive stare, dropping it for something more lighter when Callista returned with two glasses and the bottle. "Thank you."  
She smiled at them and went back to counting the stocks, glancing back once in awhile and tucking her hair behind her ear. Corvo couldn't help but feel worried for her with this sliver-tongued snake. "Shouldn't you be getting ready then."

"While the elders have agreed, it's not official yet due to some 'inconveniences', so the Feast of Painted Kettles will be held later tonight." Martin shrugged and took a sip of his drink, giving it a look of approval before resting his chin in a hand to watch the former Lord Protector. "I'd invite you but majority of the Abbey's men would not react well to a witch observing their sacred event."

"Wouldn't go anyway." Indifferently, Corvo finished his glass in one shot and readied to get up.

"Perhaps, although I believe I could convince you otherwise." The younger man's glare promised death when the new High Overseer simply reached up and refilled the former's cup. Martin chuckled softly at him. "Eager, aren't you."

"I don't enjoy the presence of people I dislike and the need to be polite around them."

"Pity, for I enjoy yours."

Corvo choked on his next sip, coughing and bristling as Martin gave his back a couple of hard pats to help. He shifted away from the clergyman when he recovered, growling when he felt the other's hand still on him.

"Don't do that. You're not a dog, are you?" Martin dropped his hand and refilled his own cup. "So, how did the mission go?"

The witch sighed, realizing that the only way to end the conversation in a way that was not outright running, was either finishing the bottle (and he had a feeling that Martin would just ask for another even if he did) or to give the man what he wanted. While

Corvo knew his limit, a very recent memory of chugging down four bottles of whiskey in a few minutes out of stress from making the potion became his anchor. He really did not want to be drunk around the Overseer.

"They won't be coming back." Alive and intact, he left unsaid, hearing Callista walk past behind them and up the stairs.

"Huh. Any leads then?"

"None that you need to know, 'High' Overseer."

Martin snorted and rolled his eyes, finishing his drink and pouring another round for himself and the other. "Yes, but as the 'High' Overseer," He twitched his fingers at Corvo's emphasis of his title. "I could help you. We can make a deal, scratch each other's back."

The younger man let out a quiet huff of laughter at the absurd idea, although it was interesting. "A witch and a holy man,"

"-walked into a bar." Martin finished for him and Corvo can't help but laugh unwillingly again, quickly catching himself and tensing when he found the clergyman staring at him.

"What." He bit out, the man's intense expression starting to unnerve him.

The High Overseer's lips worked upwards slightly, slow but genuine, before he turned back to his drink. "You look better when you smile."

Corvo stared at him wide-eyed, but confusion soon melted into distrust and muted anger. He remembered the rats telling him, 'the man works with a motive in every step'.

" _Don't_."

Martin blinked with raised brows at the sudden change in the witch.

"I do not know what you're playing at, Overseer and I do not appreciate it."

Grabbing his glass and draining it, Corvo placed it down and gave a thanks through gritted teeth. Martin didn't stop him as he left to Piero, upgrade some gear and deliver the loot before heading to Samuel. The boatman did not question his look of irritation and whispered to him that the Overseer was leaning against the doorframe as they were leaving. Corvo merely grunted and kept his gaze forward to Wrenhaven.

Samuel's a good listener, Corvo found out, as the older man listened to what he couldn't say earlier. The former Royal Protector quietly told him of the potion, Slackjaw, the interrogation and the names the twins gave. The boatman did not speak, only nodding and frowning slightly at the vague methods of persuasion used on the Pendleton's. Corvo made sure to skip the details.

There...was an urge, itching and burning to tell Samuel about Emily but Corvo's silence to it settled on his shoulders as he shoved back the want.

"So, the Lord Regent and Royal Physician huh? Either one won't be an easy target." the boatman said thoughtfully, scratching his beard as they neared the Flooded District. "I know that they both stay in... Dunwall Tower," Samuel's words were hesitant and his brows lowered with worry when Corvo merely crossed his arms, fist clenched as he gave a small nod. "But I hear that Sokolov tends to move between there and his house at the end of Kaldwin Bridge. Perhaps the Admiral will have an idea."

"Perhaps." the witch murmured back distantly, shifting away from the other. A heavy guilt (Jessamine, he bit his lip) slowly ate its way from his gut and chest, mixed with anger and sorrow and it took him a few seconds before he managed to force himself to stand steadily when the boat bumped against the shores.

"Corvo," Samuel called out when the man's boots hit stone, his question quiet, sincere and if the witch listened hard enough, pleading. "Are you okay?"  
Glancing over his shoulder, Corvo debated on ignoring the older man, but knew that would worry the other more.

"I'm fine."

The weight grew as he entered the house, wood creaking under his soundless steps. The rats peeked out from holes in the walls, shrill greetings but turned softer with concern when no answer came. Corvo's body moved on its own will to the second decaying floor, pausing in the doorway of the altar room.

He stared at the bedroom devoted to the deity, wondering whether he could just try and sleep off the horrid feeling in his chest but gave up. Two bottles of rum, unopened and cold in the unnatural air of the room. The witch pulled the crock out from one.  
"A little early, don't you think."

Corvo didn't reply, rearranging the whalebone on the table for enough space to place the bottle and the dark entity gave a sigh of breath it should not have.

"Your partnership with Slackjaw has left Morgan and Custis Pendleton to spend their remaining years working in their own mines, tongues removed and starving. Slackjaw had Custis blinded by acid and Morgan's ears sliced off, their only comfort there is each other but the guards were paid to separate them when they are near their end." The Outsider stared at the offering and then at its witch, the human sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. "Your blade in their neck would had been a mercy."

The only answer the deity got was Corvo draining the bottle in one chug, breathing a little harder as he set it aside for another one.

"And to think we had passed the point of where our conversations only consisted of my voice."

Not in the mood, Corvo didn't say outloud, knowing the Outsider could hear his thoughts. He wanted to curl up and die, the whirl of emotion now crushing and Corvo felt the hopeless need to just lay down and do nothing forever. Give up, even after six months of mourning for Jessamine, now there was still so much to do.

A swing left the liquid sloshing in the second bottle, and him somewhat breathless from the alcohol's burn and sudden reeling of the head.

He refused to grieve for Emily. Not yet, he knew, because there was so much to do and it hurt to wait but it would pay off.

The Outsider's gaze burned into his skin and Corvo couldn't help but shiver when the god floated above the table, bottle left untouched but he knew better. It wasn't the first time the witch spent drinking with the creature and sometimes he wondered why he trusted it with him at such weak moments.

"You drank with an Overseer."

Corvo sighed and dropped his head back against the dusty bed, ignoring the slowly increasing hums of the whalebones behind as the Outsider waited. It took another sip before he spoke, the world in a blur and lightheaded. "You knew the situation."

"You could had just walked away, yet despite your aversion for him, you drank." The Outsider crossed its arms and crocked its head as the witch glared at the bottle. "Why?"

"I thought you like surprises?" If Corvo wasn't as tired was he was now, he would had been horrified at himself. The entity simply stared and the human sighed, rubbing his face with scarred hands. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"Do you intend to drink all your problems away, my dear Corvo?"

The witch let out a dry, ragged laugh. "If it was that simple, I'd had drowned myself in it. But no, we both know I'll regret this when I wake up."

"Is that all you regret?"

Corvo opened his eyes to see the Outsider seated on the bed next to him, so close that he could drop his head against the side of leviathan's lap. And perhaps out of liquor courage, he did. The room seemed to vibrate, whalesong singing from the bones all around and if Corvo listened hard enough, the Mark itself was whispering along. He shivered as a hand started to comb through his hair, carefully undoing the few braids at the sides and removing the raven feathers weaved into them.

There was a lure to sleep along with the odd comfort the Outsider brought, forever if he truly wanted, but that would defeat the purpose of taking this path in the first place. "Someday," hushed the deity and Corvo unconsciously shifted closer. "The Void will welcome you with open arms, but not yet."

He didn't know how to react to that statement, feeling something unclench in his chest so he focused on things he knew: work. Even with magic and armed with revenge, Hiram Burrows would not be an easy target. The witch knew Dunwall Tower inside out, but unless he had time, the security was going to be a problem, so that left Sokolov.

The hand stroking Corvo's hair jerked to a stop for a moment, before resuming its work, slower this time. "Anton Sokolov is a predictable man. He seeks my favor, going as far as travelling to Pandyssia and to rituals that will not work to summon me." The Outsider paused again and Corvo blinked up at him, his lips unwillingly twitching upwards when distaste broke the usual impassive expression.

"Don't like him? He sounds like a big fan of yours." The human tried to keep his tone neutral but the whale god gave him an indecisive look.

"Are you mocking me, Corvo?"

"No, but I do find your dislike for him somewhat humorous."

"I see." The reply sounded almost hesitant and Corvo glanced at the quarter full bottle in his hand, before hanging his head.

"I think I had too much."

"It's amazing how humans indulge themselves in things they know would kill them."

"At least the alcohol would preserves my corpse." the witch muttered and let his eyelids fall shut, trying to ignore the hand now toying with his locks. It reminded him of— Corvo pulled away from the Outsider and finished his drink, coughing slightly. "Back to Sokolov."

The deity frowned and slowly crossed its arms. "He will be in his house at Kaldwin Bridge on Monday."

"That's five days away."

"You could continue working on your spells, or perhaps figure a way to infiltrate." The Outsider tilted its head, blinking slowly at him. "There is still a long way to go."

Corvo grunted and forced himself up to his feet, swaying dangerously before stumbling over to the doorway but paused when he remembered something. "Wait."

"Yes?"

"...Did you ring the bell in the Pendleton's room?"

The Outsider raised a brow, still floating an inch above the bed, before slowly smiling. "Go to sleep, Corvo."

He woke up having the worst hangover yet, half hanging out of the hammock and staring at the floor—and rats. His swarm was under him and squeaking, multiple beady black eyes gazing up at him with expectation.

"Good morning!" they chirped and Corvo curled away from the danger of falling and crushing them.

"Please hush," he mumbled and the swarm did eventually, but only long enough for him to start drifting off to sleep again before they started chattering loudly for him to wake up. Shifting over to glare at them, Corvo's scowl deepened as they hopped up and down in an attempt to jump onto the hammock. "Stop that."

They didn't. The witch dropped his head back with a groan. It took him a few minutes to sit up, ignoring the cheers of the rats as they scrambled away from him. Corvo made his way to the balcony, uncaring of the cold tiles somewhat damp from the frequent rainfalls Dunwall had and sat down on the driest spot he could find. Corvo fidgeted and frowned at the chilly air, knowing that the sharp fresh air of the river would wake him up faster and hopefully keep his insides in than the stale, slightly tinted with alcoholic scent indoors.

 _"Are you feeling better?"_ A white rat climbed up to sit on his lap, a few more settling on his shoulders while the rest huddled around him.

"Horrible." Corvo rubbed his face with the marked hand, the other absentmindedly stroking the rats circling him. Pain hammered his head as he slumped over, and the witch swore he could hear the Outsider laughing at him. Never again will he drink with the High Overseer and the Void's only inhabitant in one day, no matter how much it was hurting.

Clank.

Forcing an eye open, Corvo watched as a grey rat rolled a bottle over to him. On closer inspection, he couldn't tell if it contained water or vodka and the man gave a sigh. He picked up the rat, letting it nibble on his fingers as he drained the bottle.

It reminded him that he had go scavenging soon. While he could always head over to the Hound Pits for food and the rats had their ways, the Loyalist themselves didn't have an unlimited supply. Or maybe they did, considering they now have the head of a noble family and a High Overseer in their ranks. The witch frowned at the thought of the latter and got up, deciding the hangover was the least of his worries.

After stumbling around and drinking a vial of Sokolov's elixir, Corvo ended up holding up the Royal Protector coat, left neatly folded and hidden in the cupboard when he first arrived. He stared at it for a long time before reluctantly slipping it on, trying to keep his focus on track as he pulled up the hood.

'It's cold. Just a quick trip out, take what we find and get back.' the witch reassured himself, grabbing his sword and a large sack when the flutter of wings caught his attention. The young raven stood proud, perched on the railing. It hopped onto his hand when Corvo reached out, cawing loudly until he went back in and gave it a piece of leftover meat.

A rolled up note was tied to the bird's leg: an address to a house in the Estate district. Corvo stared. Unfamiliar handwriting, no name and just the address. The witch was tempted to burn it as he turned to the raven. "Where did you go?"

"Caw." It only crocked its head at him and Corvo huffed, before Blinking up to the window by the abandoned houses and entering through the window. He ignored the startled squawking of the raven and made his way to the other buildings to Blink over to a crumbling apartment across.

 _"A group of people tried to live here,"_ the rats whispered as he searched the place with Dark vision and found five bodies the downstairs. Three shuffled around aimlessly, the one huddled on the floor and another possibly dead. _"They ran here when the guards barricaded their homes, and all was well until one started to cough. They killed him, but it was already too late."_

Corvo nodded at the grim reminder of the plague, even without the Lord Regent's help Dunwall was dying. He quietly made his way to the stairs, drawing his sword as one of the plague victims climbed up into the room. There were a lot of things in green and blue below, he noted, holding his breath while choking the poor soul out. He carefully placed her on a dirty mattress in the room. A look out of the window told him gathering those supplies may not be worth the trouble.

Five in the house, at least more than four outside. He could kill them, but the idea of having innocent blood driven mad by sickness didn't sit right with him. Corvo tried to block out memories of the Pendleton twins. He didn't have to kill. Still, the witch glanced at the rats by his feet thoughtfully. "Could you...?"

They gave chitters of agreement, the swarm heading down the stairs and out of the building until their voices and little yellow bodies faded away from his sense. Corvo peeked at the window to see them scatter into the street and another apartment across, and waited.

Nothing happened for a minute or two and the witch began to worry when a loud crash and tumble of heavy objects meeting the ground made him jumped. An echo of groans as the weepers from inside the house and out slowly made their way towards the other building.

He was quick, snatching up what he could find. A rain catcher on a balcony, still usable and relatively clean, and a cabinet stocked full of elixirs and remedies were the best finds yet, although Corvo did wonder about the second one. He took the potions first, traveling back to drop it off the buildings closest to his and Blinked back to collect the rain catcher.

The plague victims alongside the rats had returned, but it didn't matter as he picked up the equipment. Pouring the stale water inside away and folding the plastic sheet used, he figured that the container could be replaced with a barrel back in the house. Turning, Corvo made sure to do one last check with the other vision, but paused at the window when the rats started to hiss. Their words were distorted and growing aggressive with each passing second and Corvo instinctively drew his blade, edging away from the opening.

Above on the rooftops of a ruined building a block away was a figure perched on one knee, masked and dressed in dark clothes and Corvo's breath hitched.

The same people with the scarred man in red, grabbing Emily and preventing him from doing anything with magic. The man's blade through Jessamine's abdomen.

Corvo dropped everything but the sword, fist clenched and the Mark flaring and itching. He couldn't breathe, mind's eye locked on that single moment of his life that he hated with every fiber of his being.

The assassin suddenly looked in his direction and the stab of fear, oh the _fear_ , Corvo felt it even from the distance. The rats bristled and hissed by his boots, scattering into cracks and holes as the assassin turned and fled.

Numb and cold, but not from the light drizzle overhead, the former Lord Protector followed in silent rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd slump on the table if I were more expressive. Night's work's over. Thank you for reading thus far! It really means a lot to my sister! The notes below are from my sis, and were written before accidentally deleting the fic. - Kiara
> 
> First of all: THANK YOU FOR ALL THOSE WHO READ, GAVE KUDOS, COMMENTED AND BOOKMARKED. I do not understand why people like this trash but thank ya. This was a monster to edit, i spent like four full days trying to upload this but my main com's been giving problems by either deleting everything i wrote or adding random spaces in the words i nearly cried. This is being done on my sis's laptop and thanks to her for beta and waiting.
> 
> Really tired, just got Alpha Sapphire so imma just go lay down here but here's a very important question.
> 
> Do the bits of fluffy and humor bother you?
> 
> Cuz I know the plot is dark (and it's gonna get worse) and as much as I like writing this, it kinda does affect me irl. I actually feel depressed which helps the feels, and my natural response is to add in stupid fluff and laughs to comp. It's like a breath of fresh air from the grim stuffy air closing in but now it just bothers me cuz I donno if you readers like it so let me know (i have like, alot more stupid stuff). Thank you for reading and have a nice day.


	5. Chapter 5

_Shhk. Shhk._

Weak glints of sunlight peeking out from the clouds above were reflected each time sharp metal met the edge of bleached white. A constant draft from the window in front pulled out most of the dust and residue, but the scent still hung heavy in the air.

_Shhk. Shhk. Shhkrt._

He paused and lowered the knife to inspect his work. It looked like any other rounded bone dedicated to the Outsider, only lacking the aged yellow surface that was not scorched black and the accompanied song of whispers. Blowing the dust off, Corvo wiped the knife clean and pricked the side of a finger, smearing a line of red across carved symbols darkened with ash and now blood.

Gold flashed and glowed bright as the bone seemed to shiver. He placed it on the table beside another rune and three bone charms, hearing but not listening to the hissing emitted from the charm when a quiet flutter settled on his shoulder.

Three days, he kept to himself — not replying to any notes the bird brought or the nervous concerns of the rats. Or at least that was what the rats told him; they could be lying for all he knew. It could have been a full week, Sokolov gone from the bridge and back to the Palace, but the witch found that he was starting to care less. At least that way, he could take care of both the Royal Physician and the Lord Regent at the same time.

When he did attempt any form of communication, it was with Granny Rags and it was simple.

Humans work just as well.

I know, said the rats when they returned from sewers. He could almost see her crooked smile, jagged and grim at those words. 

Hm. Not surprising.

With a sigh, the witch allowed himself to close his eyes and relax, feeling the weight on his shoulder hop down to perch on his lap. He wasn't sure how long he had been carving the bones. There was an unnatural blank space behind the hours of breaking and reshaping them into something small enough to fit his palm.

His coat still hung on his frame, dark patches staining the heavy wool. The blood —not his, it often never was his anymore— was fresh enough that he could tell that it wasn't a week.

When he tried hard enough, there were bits of blurry images, broken pieces of memories reminding him of the random parts of Dunwall floating in the Void. He recalled standing over the assassin wearing the whaling mask, his left hand painfully clenched and raised, followed by the feeling of distress and nothing else.

Indeed the assassin was an accomplice of the scarred man in red, but there was only ink marking the left hand and arms despite sharing the Outsider's gifts. The Void smelt different when the assassin used it, similar but not genuine; almost like a well-made replica. Corvo couldn't help but wonder if Jessamine's murderer shared his follower's pain, or even noticed one of his pack was gone.

Possession on this one was... interesting to say the least. It was empty, yet manage to fight back significantly more than the usual Watch guard, trying to snatch the reins of control with the skills of a stringless puppet even as Corvo directed the man's blade to his own jugular. He should be feeling disgusted with himself, horrified by how easy it was to drag a mind to bloodshed.

"Caw." A hard peck to his abdomen made him grunt and idly shoo the impatient bird away.

The raven—still nameless and too curious for its own good—shook its leg until the ribbon loosened and came off, followed by the note attached. Corvo found it a little odd, considering the fact that the bird normally needed help removing them and watched as it picked up the note and fluttered over to a half-opened drawer, dropping it in.

The drawer was already filled with other pieces of paper, some of Granny's shaky but somehow elegant writing, Slackjaw, and the unknown sender.

A few from Granny, requesting him to let her know when he was going to visit Sokolov and another inquiring about his silence the past days. Slackjaw was informing him of someone trying to ruin his business, attacking his men and poisoning the booze. The good news was that Outsider's Piss —Corvo narrowed his eyes. Really, Slackjaw? —was working overtime. The last one was simply the stranger asking if he was dead.

Right.

The latest note the raven dropped in the unintentional mailbox was from Samuel.

_Corvo, I hope this gets to you because getting the little rascal to stay still long enough took half of my breakfast._

_You know I don't like prying and I understand that you have your own business, but the Admiral has been asking about you. His sources say that Sokolov's going to the bridge tomorrow and the only thing stopping him from having us bring a ladder to climb up those broken floors of your place is Cecelia's need to fetch drinks for Lord Pendleton._

_Please when you get this, come down. Use the flare gun I gave you, fire it and I'll be there in ten or so._

_-Samuel._

"He came here with the other servants a few times," A shuffle to his right and the little white rat scrambled out from under somewhere, standing on her hindlegs to peek up at him. Her kin around her began to chatter excitedly, finding the fact similar to delicious gossip. "They didn't get far. Those like the boatman could only access the kitchen."

Corvo frowned and glanced over to the side. The flare gun should still be in dusty chest, unless the bird or rats somehow managed to lift the heavy lid, which wouldn't have really surprised him.

Getting up, he made his way over the sturdy box and searched through the contents. A thought of putting the coat back crossed his mind, but Corvo decided against it. As much as it felt wrong to keep wearing it, he should at least wash out the blood before locking it away.

The gun was still intact, its gunpowder mix of the flare seemly dry. Corvo placed it on the table by the charm, looking out of the window. Much of the sun was blocked by the clouds, but the witch gauged it to be somewhere in the early morning. He really should start investing in a pocket watch.

He frowned again and looked down at the swarm of rats by his boots. "Sokolov?"

"Already at the bridge," one of them piped up, the others throwing in comments about how the Royal Physician planned to stay for a good amount of days and that Granny would want to know. The few who mentioned the latter darted away into the cracks of the walls.

As the witch nodded, forming a plan with the new information, he didn't notice a bright-eyed bird dropping down on the table.

The raven crocked its head at the small metal object, approaching it carefully to observe it from every angle. It pecked it lightly, jumping back in a heartbeat and pecked it harder when nothing happened. Guns were not new to it, having seen guards use it in the presence of stumbling people with blood running down their faces and men who had swords and blew liquid fire.

It nudged the short stumpy barrel with its talons, understanding that the tiny, but deadly bits of metal emerged with smoke and noise but the idea of being able to investigate it up close was too good to pass up. A few more pecks to it brought no result, so the bird turned to the part where humans would grip and-

**Bang!**

Corvo Blinked away, sword drawn and eyes fixed at the window and table instinctively. From the floor came shrill squeals as the rats panicked, before swarming towards the direction of the sound with sharp teeth and angry chatter. They watched as the bright red orb of the flare lit the gloomy sky for a moment, then slowly obeyed gravity's rule into the river while the raven's frightened cawing faded off into the distance hastily.

"At least we know it works." Corvo muttered under his breath and put away his weapon, snatching up what he needed.

Samuel was by the riverbank in less than the promised ten minutes, arms crossed and scowling when Corvo walked up to him. Surprisingly, the boatman did not utter a word. Instead, he stood there like a guardian statue, a waiting storm on his features as he stared the other man down. Corvo didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be," Samuel's tone was of grave disappointment and anger held back with tight reins. Corvo couldn't help but remember his own father when he caught a much younger Corvo pickpocketing a passing noble. "Where have you been?"

It wasn't a question. The witch narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't matter." It really didn't, considering he couldn't even recall what did happen. Samuel's shoulders shifted back and his stance went from firm to rigid—a silent message: I'm not moving. Corvo bit back a sharp retort at how the boatman said he didn't like prying, and resorted to reason instead. "Sokolov is at the bridge."

"I know. We will reach the bridge before he leaves, rest assured, after you tell me why you went under for the last three days." Corvo watched as the storm darkened when he remained quiet, somewhat fascinated by how rage could morph the humble old sailor into someone dramatically different. The weathered, calm gaze that slipped past the border of caring and comforting, was now steadily becoming painful to look at. The witch was about to drop his stare to the waters when the hard lines of Samuel's expression softened.

"We... I was worried, Corvo. I waited here for hours, worried sick," The retired sailor dropped his stable stance, suddenly appearing weaker and lost. Corvo wasn't sure which felt worse, being the target of Samuel's anger or seeing the man look so tired. "I didn't even know if you were still breathing in there. All I could do was get your bird to send you a letter. It was that or break my back attempting to climb the mess of a stairway so a reason would be great."

"Pendleton," Corvo quietly sighed, earning a look from the older man. The twins were the best reason he could give honestly, besides the assassin who was most likely deceased. "The Pendleton twins."

"So you sulked for three days because the twins are dead?"

A murmur, and Samuel raised a brow in skeptical question. "Pardon?"

"They're not dead," the younger man repeated, "But they will be soon."

A long moment passed, then Samuel let out a deep sigh and turned towards the boat. He waited for Corvo to get settled in before setting off, letting the silence run. When the bridge came into sight, emerging from the dense morning fog that hung over the waters, Samuel spoke up.

"See those spotlights?" He pointed and Corvo followed, his view settling on the row of unlit lights by the middle of the bridge. "The Watch recently hooked them up, along with some of Sokolov's other inventions. At first they would only turn them on during the night, but the Lord Regent ordered it to be lit the whole day. There's a small gap though, but it's not enough for me to ferry you there and back safely so I'm dropping you off at the south end. Just make your way and turn them off. I'll wait for you by the underpass at Sokolov's place after you've done that."

Nodding, Corvo waited for Samuel to dock before standing up. He paused, one boot placed on sturdy stone, and placed a hand on the boatman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. For making you worry."

"Just don't do it again." Samuel gruffly replied, but didn't shrug off the hand. "Be careful, Corvo."

He vaguely waved a hand, keeping his back to the other to do a quick scout with Dark Vision. Only rats as far as he could see, and brought out Piero's mask. Corvo stared at it for a long moment. He still didn't like how it fitted his face perfectly, leather and steel locking into place with a click. A flick of the hand pulled the hood of his coat up as he carefully made his way up, the quiet rumble of Samuel's boat grew further behind.

There didn't seem to be any other way to continue onward besides a door at the end or a dip in the river, hagfish and all. Focusing on the first option, a familiar flutter made him stop in his approach.

Corvo snorted and raised a hand, letting the raven perch. He was about to slip the note out of the scratchy old ribbon Granny Rags often used when he noticed the wings and cursed under his breath. "Again?"

Alas, the bird could not respond as he gingerly nudged one of its wings. It cawed loudly, flapping the targeted limb as if trying to swat him away and Corvo narrowed his eyes. Parts of flight feathers were unnaturally missing, plucked out carelessly with motive. Corvo knew why and made a note to have a word with Granny. If she really needed feathers, she could ask her 'little birdies' to find some, or at least leave the important feathers alone.

When you visit Mr. Sokolov, be a dear and help me ask him for my ring. During my travels with my dear husband, we brought back many beautiful things. One of them was a pair of beautiful wedding rings, bone, silver and dusted with stars we discovered but they were lost when I moved away.

A nice man returned one of them not too long ago, the other was found by the Royal Physician. He keeps it on his person or has it in his room, thinking my black-eyed groom will notice him if he does. What a fool he can be at times. I have a lovely surprise when you come over, dearie, so don't be late.

Ignoring the second option, Corvo approached the door and listened.

Two guards stood inside, grabbing their belongings as they spoke. "Fuckin' Andreas," one of them snarled. "Told him that I can't be late today and what does he do? Take his damn time!"

"Yeah, well you know him. He's probably drunk off his ass again, give him a few minutes." the other man tried to reason, leaning against the wall.

"Damn him to the Void! I just want to finish this shift and leave!" the first man huffed angrily and paced around the small locker room.

"It's your kid's birthday, yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't want to miss this one, already did for last year's..."

"Right. Well I heard you missed three in a row, Wilson," The second man chuckled at the grumbled response. "The whole squad knows your lady chewed your ears for that."

"Shut the fuck up, Luke."

"Hey, at least you still have your wife."

"Right, fuck, sorry." Wilson's shoulders slumped and he stopped pacing to face his friend. "Uh, how's your girl? She found a job yet?"

"She's fine. Been complaining 'bout Esma Boyle's antics but she's fine. You know nobles, they always need someone to button their clothes. I'm just thankful she found a job after the Pendleton's, you get?" Luke straightened from the wall and rolled his shoulders. "Tell you what, how 'bout you head off first? I've got the time."

"You sure? Isn't she waiting for you?"

"Nah. We've both been...busy. Plus, my patrol got called to the Tower. Regent's been at it again."

Wilson slapped the other on the back, already heading to another door. "Thanks man, things will get better. Drinks on me next time, hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah. And wish 'em happy birthday for me!"

Corvo frowned as the figure of the leaving man left his vision, leaving the remaining guard alone. There was nobody around, or at least near enough to interfere. He could go in, knockout this one and keep going but he found that he didn't really want to.

These guards had families, they were somebodies to people now that he thought of it. The witch reached out to Luke, clawed at the surface of the man's mind. Relatively calm but overwhelmingly tired and weary. Worried for his daughter, sixteen and already working full time as a maid, almost never having time to talk to him anymore. Last time they did, it ended in anger and tears.

The witch couldn't help but smile humorlessly, to think he was growing a conscious now. The bodies left in his wake were mostly breathing and those that didn't were in his way, however Corvo knew it wouldn't really matter now.

Still, he mused and halfheartedly listened to the steps of the guard walking towards the door that separated them, perhaps there was another way to this. The handle twisted and the metal door swing open, Corvo sighed.

Yes, there always was another way. It just depended if you were willing to look for it.

 

* * *

 

"The stars say that today is a great day to further your knowledge through books, conversation and ritual chanting." The man paused, a hand busy scribbling on the blackboard beside him while the other held up a thick leather-covered book. Pleased, he flipped the page and read on.

"However, there is a high chance you will not be successful in obtaining what you truly want. It certainly doesn't want you."

Sokolov raised a brow at the prediction and stared at it judgingly before dusting away that last part with a smooth swipe. "Right. Next, today the stars say that river krust are likely to target you more than others. Even if you're in a large crowd, they will... roll after you and single you out until you have reached safety. Do not attempt to swim or sail should you wish to avoid the crustacean army. Please remain indoors."

The man frowned in confusion and stroked his beard, setting down the chalk for the glass of Tyvian red he placed on the table earlier. His hand groped at the air but he didn't bother to look, eyes fixed on the next reading.

"Today something that you've been waiting for awhile will finally drop into your lap. For safety reasons, the stars suggest that you wear two layers of pants." Sokolov narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance. He knew the glass was there, just out of his reach but was still unwilling to extend his energy to actually look over. "Either that, or prepare more food. Food solves everything. Where is that blasted-?" Someone passed him said glass and the Royal Physician nodded. "Thank you."

He took a sip and mused over the stars' advice, before glancing to the side.

The Lord Protector stood only a few feet away, a mask of dark metal and crude wire held limply in a hand, crocking his head at one of the other blackboards in the room. Oh.

'Stressed? Take a day to relax and enjoy yourself.' Said the board. 'Emphasis on yourself, specifically your hands. The stars would like you to ravish yourself for the whole day.' 

Sokolov tensed when Corvo slowly looked over at him, shooting him an expectant look. "I uh," Sokolov began smartly and coughed, "was going to update that."

Corvo didn't reply and shifted his gaze back to the board. Sokolov couldn't tell if it was in disbelief or disgust. Now that he thought about it, he shouldn't be wondering whether the other cared about fortune readings. He should be fearing for his life in fact. The recent hits to Dunwall's high society, Lady Emily, Campbell's abrupt exile, the twins of the Pendleton disappearance and now him. It all added up now.

Lips in a thin line and brows furrowed, Sokolov took a deep breath, ready to bribe his way out or shout for the guards —surely Corvo wouldn't kill him, they had always been alright with one another, neutral grounds at best— and he let it out softly. The expected wave of terror and adrenaline that came with most life threatening situations was muted, as if shoved aside before it could reach him and someone had placed a heavy mantle of calm over him.

Odd, Sokolov mused. He could recall his journey to Pandyssia like yesterday; the constant swaying of the ship's hull lost in the rage of the wild sea, when he saw the brightly feathered lizard, standing on its hind legs and as tall as a man, snapped up two sailors in one motion. Or when a large feline with a coat of mercury stalked their camp for the days they stayed, always the cover of the surrounding shadows as it watched with eyes that shone like fire fueled by whale oil.

He was afraid then, but not for his life. No, Sokolov was more frightened of the idea that he would die there with all his findings, to become insignificant as his bones turned to dust and the world moved on, with or without him.

To be noticed by a deity that watched empires rise and crumble.

Corvo pulled away before he saw too much, left hand stiff and aching from being held in a clawed posture for so long.

The Royal Physician swallowed dryly, he couldn't find it in himself to alert the guards or even run. He just didn't want to. Plus, Corvo hadn't drawn his sword yet. Then again, he had seen the Lord Protector take out four men with his bare hands before, how would he be any different now?

Movement at the side, windows looking out into the hallway that connected to his bedroom caught their eye. A guard was walking pass, albeit slow as if in a daze. Sokolov felt his breath hitch as the guard glanced into the room and at them, the doctor opened his mouth with an order to stand down on the tip of his mouth.

The man slowed in his steps, stared at the Royal Physician and then at the stranger before going on his merry way, seemingly unaffected.

Sokolov stood there, stunned for what felt like hours before finding his voice. "Corvo."

"Sokolov." the younger man greeted back, gaze lingering on the windows.

"How- what is going on?" Sokolov managed to enforce his tone with something stronger, bolder, but still not enough to his liking. "How did you get past the guards?"

"I walked."

"You walked?" the man sputtered and glanced back to the window when the guard walked past again, same disinterested look at them. "W-what do you mean you walked? Did the guards let you in? Last time I checked, Corvo, no offense, but you were supposed to be a dead man."

No answer.

"And how are you still alive? I heard the announcements but they-"

"I need answers." Corvo cut him off and the other man snorted, annoyed.

"Well so do I," Glaring, Sokolov raised his head a little higher. "Whatever is it, I'm sure we can sort it out. Starting with how you got in here when my inventions are installed everywhere."

"You have no card against me. Your guards will not come, I have no need for your potion and I have a knife." Corvo watched the Tyvian man flinched back, as if shoved, before huffing.

"I'll have you know that I've faced threats unlike any men had encountered before. You don't scare me, Corvo." Sokolov firmly stated, but Corvo could feel the confidence tremble with distrust and self-doubt.

As much as he would rather have the older man spill without harm or force, he was running short of time and possession was out of the question, considering that the latter was extended to multiple beings at the moment.

The journey to the safe house was weary, testing his limits. The idea was to force a sense of calm into the patrolling City Watch around, strong enough to have them look past him or deactivate walls of lights and hand over keys. It worked, as long as the targets were not alert or aggressive—Corvo would knock out or avoid those. Downstairs, the witch had left most the guards untouched besides the Overseers carrying music boxes in particular, now unconscious in the wine cellar.

Unfortunately, keeping the calm required focus. So much that he couldn't use Blink or Dark Vision.

And so he literally walked.

"Surely at least an alarm should have been sounded, or somebody spotting you..." Sokolov started to pace, trying to find a reasonable explanation in murmurs. The witch heaved a sigh, he really did not want to do this but it would guarantee the doctor's compliance. As he raised his left hand into view, Corvo absentmindedly wondered if the Outsider would interfere this conversation just to prevent him from showing the Mark, or maybe strike the witch down.

"I have it! You bribed the Watch-" Sokolov froze and stared, so intently that Corvo resisted the urge to shift away and hide his left hand at the sudden change in the scientist's posture. "Oh."

'Oh' was an understatement. The former bodyguard felt the other's mood shift from utter shock to a mixture of eerie focus, hunger for knowledge and sharp jealousy. He dropped the hand, doing his best to block Sokolov out as eyes stayed locked on the Mark, the symbol now climbed up his hand like ivy.

He hadn't noticed it until midway of Kaldwin's Bridge, after knocking out a crazed man with sleep darts and picking up the rune. Corvo made no effort to touch the man, worried that physical touch would cause him to peek into his mind involuntary. There were limits, pounding headaches and nosebleeds and he had no wish to slip into borrowed insanity. There had been no pain following the spread like ink in water, Corvo realized then when he raised the hand to inspect the fine details, a whisper cooing into his ears.

"The more you use it, the more it claims." The Outsider's tone was borderline affectionate even as Corvo attempted to rub off the lines that trailed off just past his wrist, ignoring the ghost of cold fingers tracing the Mark when he gave up. "You wear it well."

"Let's have a trade then, a question for a question." offered the Tyvian man with nervousness behind eager words. "I am rather intrigued by-"

"You're in no position to bargain, Sokolov." Corvo growled and stalked forward, feeling on edge. The other was oblivious to it, Corvo felt the knowing presence's gaze resting on them.

While he knew the Outsider would not cut them short —not many benefits came from leaving your seat and burning the theater, just because you didn't like a certain character. No, he would rather do it afterwards— tempting the Void's wrath was something he wanted to avoid. It was kind of ironic, Sokolov finally in the Outsider's spotlight and not knowing it.

Sokolov had taken a few steps back and now frowning deeply, but didn't make a move to voice his disagreements. Corvo took this as a sign to continue. "Who killed her."

"Her?" echoed Sokolov, raising a brow and clockwork in his mind processing the question. It clicked and the older man's expression fell, his voice softened with a hint of solemn lost. "I'm assuming you're referring to the old Empress or-" He cut himself off, for his own unwillingness to finish and for the pained look that crossed Corvo's face.

"...Both of them."

"Y-yes, of course," The Royal Physician nodded, eyes lowered with a distant gleam of thought. "I'm really sorry, Corvo, but I honestly do not know." His words were colored plain with honesty and regret and a hint of shamefulness, yet it still fueled the biting anger in Corvo. "I've a few names but no real evidence."

"Who are they." His hands were not trembling, Corvo told himself, the knuckles were always that pale since Coldridge.

"The Empire has many enemies, but I believe there're only a handful capable to going so far as to...attack us like that." Sokolov walked over to a bookcase, nudging aside some thick books about anatomy and whale oil uses for a thinner, leather-bounded one hidden at the back. The pages, filled with diagrams and cursive scribbles, were yellowing and brittle but well-cared for as the man carefully flipped to what he needed. "The main ones are mad men, swords for hire and pirates; you tend to meet all kinds of people when you're a traveling genius. Admittedly most of them are either dead or arrested by now so it leaves us with a few."

Corvo walked over to stand behind Sokolov, reading over his shoulder and frowned at the notes. "You met Rust Eye the pirate lord?"

"Ah, yes, mister Karlos Gisse. Best known for destroying two Gristolian fleets by luring them to sail over a school of flying hagfish during breeding season." the Tyvian man answered nonchalantly as he flipped to the next page, going on when he saw the unconvinced look Corvo wore. "Met him in a Morley pub during a visit. He's currently retired in Caulkenny after persuading the Duke to pardon him."

"I saw his face."

"Pardon?" Sokolov looked up from his book and the witch bit his lips.

"Serkonan, slightly older than me. Has a scar by his right eye trailing down to the neck, right sword hand. Accompanied by people who wear whaling masks."

"Well, I do know a man who fits that description, somewhat. However, it's been years since." Sokolov scratched his beard and returned the books to their place. "I was in Serkonos to visit a cousin of the Academy when I heard rumors. A man who killed for blood money was there, they said his mother was a witch favored by the Outsider. It was impulsive but it was also an opportunity I couldn't let go."

"You painted him," Corvo concluded and crossed his arms. "How much did you pay him?"

"I didn't really 'pay' him for his time; it was more of striking a deal." the Royal Physician started awkwardly, before his eyes lit with awareness. "Which reminds me, I just so happened to have that very portrait in my studio downstairs, along with a few others."

The witch followed Sokolov's gaze to the door and nodded curtly after a moment, earning a small smile of relief. The doors opened soundlessly and the two guards outside paused in their idle chat, looking over. "Sir."

Sokolov tensed as the men turned their attention to Corvo, but they did nothing but stare until the two were further down the hallway. "What did you do?" he stopped in their tracks, the desire to know overcoming the fear of angering the Lord Protector. "Please, Corvo, I'll tell not a soul."

Grimacing at the thought of explaining possession, the younger man opted for shrugging and speaking in the dullest tone he could manage. "Black magic."

"Right." Sokolov nodded as he turned to go on. Corvo couldn't tell if he actually accepted the answer or was playing along. Probably the former, with more plans to get the Outsider's attention. "He had been there for awhile, to learn or to kill I didn't know. I did some research and found that he was targeting a professor I was acquainted with so I... offered him a deal. His time for the confirmed location and assurance that his target would be alone, along with some coins."

"After I painted him, someone entered the ship's deck and stole it when we docked, amongst other items I brought back. It most likely went to the black market, where an art dealer named Bunting brought it. Polite man, a little odd but we didn't talk much." They walked down the stairs, Sokolov observing the absence buzzing tension in the air that his walls of light would create and how the guards moved slow and sluggish as if in a daze. "The City Watch discovered them by accident. A group of guards off duty got drunk and high off some new drug that's been going around and decided to break into the house. They claimed that rats were everywhere, running upstairs and disappearing without a trace but let us not forget that they were drunk. Overactive hallucinations aside, Bunting was found dead in a bedroom. They assumed to have died from the plague and collected his belongings, and the portraits were sent to me."

Sokolov paused in front of the paintings in his studio, nodding in approval while Corvo narrowed his eyes.

Seven years didn't seemed to have made a difference in appearance, the man in the canvas looked similar enough to the one who haunted Corvo's sleepless nights. Scarred face, dull blue instead of the vivid red of that day. The painting lacked the strong aura its model breathed, the air of an old wolf who had seen the barrel of a hunter's gun and glared right back. This man wore grim pride on his painted features, shadowed eyes staring the viewer down.

"Daud and the Parabola of Lost Seasons." Corvo murmured, squinting at the words written in small black letters at the bottom of the painting. Finally, a name to pin the face. He had-

'Sokolov always focused more on what he saw than what he could feel; a great contrast to his apprentice.' The witch crocked his head at the tiny voice, a familiar patch of white fur peeking out from behind a pile of marble. The thought of Sokolov having apprentices was not a surprise despite never really hearing the fact. A faint memory, a gentle voice and strained smile telling him of Sokolov's new disciple- her childhood friend. Tea, warm sun and sweetly sharp scent of garden flowers as She changed the subject, silk rumpled under her pale hands. He had said nothing to Jessamine, going with it for everything was perfect then. Either way, it wasn't his problem, Corvo mused as he scooped up the little mouse, letting her settle in a pocket before turning back to the doctor.

"He made a name for himself here, the Knife of Dunwall." Sokolov said with an odd gleam in his eyes, leaning back to stare at his work. "Plenty of rumors, I'm sure you've heard before, that he settled here years ago for stable work." The man sneered lightly and brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Knowing some aristocrats, there always was someone to get rid off and coin to spare."

The witch didn't look away from the painting. "What else do you know?"

"They say he's currently living in the old Rudshore Finance District, practicing the occult with a group of followers. Campbell sent a squadron of overseers a few months back to flush them out, it wasn't successful from what I've heard."

With a nod, Corvo filed that bit of info away for later use and turned his gaze to the other portraits. A clearing of the throat and a pointed look from Sokolov dragged his attention back. The man always carved a comment, where it be praise of criticism. "He looks different."

Sokolov's eyes darted around, chuckling nervously. "Right. About that."

Corvo stared as the other stroked his beard in a manner that seemed like he was trying to fluff it up, a question on his tongue when an unexpected reminder hit him.

Jessamine once tugged at his collar to have him lean down amidst a meeting, whispering about how Sokolov would often mess with his proud facial face when nervous or guilty as the said man was doing so in front of the room. 'A defense mechanism', her voice playful and light with humor, 'perhaps he's attempting to make it grow faster so he could hide in it.' Corvo had bit his lip, forcing his expression still and glared at his charge. The Empress simply smirked devilishly behind a fair hand, eyes laughing at him.

Funny, how that hand was still fair when it clung onto his collar in a vice-grip the dying often had. Only this time, there was no laughter or smiles. Just blood slipping past her lips and coloring the floor as Jessamine forced out a plead for him to promise, to find her, save Emily and-

"Corvo!"

The witch drew his sword, two hearts away from lashing out at the man before him. For a moment, Corvo wasn't sure which one he stared at with more feral wariness: Sokolov or Daud's portrait. The Tyvian man had stumbled back, alarmed with his hands up in surrender. "You're hurting yourself."

Lowering the blade was surprising difficult, his body stiff and unwilling to give up the sudden want for a familiar weight of steel in hand. Unclenching his fists, he stared at the jagged fingernails tipped with blood and then at the red crescent moons on his left palm, ignoring the blood on the folding blade's handle as he sheathed it to inspect his right. Noises of confusion came from the side and Corvo glared at the few guards who had broken away from the spell placed on them. A wordless snarl came from the witch, air becoming thick with power that dripped with measured dread, like a typhoon on the brink of wrecking the building but never truly reaching. The men went rigid, before jerkily walking away with glazed eyes to the world.

They would recover, probably. A handkerchief was wordlessly offered by Sokolov and Corvo grunted, gingerly taking it and dabbing the wounds.

"I'm not going to ask, but I'd like to see them." the Royal Physician started slowly, but firmly. "I rather not hear you died from infection just because you didn't keep a small wound clean."

"I've had worse." Corvo retorted, ragged tone harsher than intended. Sokolov just wants to help, he reminded himself and it wasn't as though the doctor had never treated him in the past. It was Sokolov's job, and yet the thought of touch besides his own —or the Outsider's— made him want to claw the Mark, to remove flesh and the feeling of trailing fingers.

Emily never liked being treated by Sokolov. She was alright with Sokolov in general but the idea of him with a needle or blade scared Emily, even when she fell and Corvo was too late to catch her. A sharp rock left a long gash down her calf and wouldn't stop bleeding no matter how much he pressed the cloth against it, as she cried and sobbed for Sokolov to get away-

"You're doing it again, Corvo!" he heard Sokolov snap, the words sounding muffled.

 _"His presence is like poison, he was there when things were better."_ whispered the little creature in his pocket, peeking out at him. _"Don't stay for too long."_

Growling in response to both, the witch folded his arms and gripped the elbows hard to stop himself from drawing blood. The act of pushing the memory aside made his chest clench and tighten, uncomfortable in his own skin.

"For your sake, come here so I can look at it. I won't touch the tattoo, swear by the cosmos."

"I can deal with it myself," muttered Corvo and Sokolov frowned, but took out a tiny bottle of brown liquid from a pocket and passed it over. A sharp bitter-sour scent of herbs made the Lord Protector snort as he uncorked the bottle, holding it further away. He gingerly tilted it, letting a drop or two land on the right palm. Despite knowing it would hurt and that his left hand had always been steadier, both for shooting off a guard's head with a bolt from afar and sewing cloth or flesh, Corvo still flinched from the stinging ointment.

The Tyvian man leaned closer, watching him critically and looking ready to comment every few seconds but he grudgingly kept to himself. Corvo rolled his eyes at the observation and finished dabbing the other hand, capping the bottle with slight difficulty. "You were saying?"

"Ah, yes," Sokolov cleared his throat and stepped away, glancing back to the portrait. "You see, while Daud accepted the deal, he was also rather impatient that day."

"He left halfway?" Corvo guessed.

"An hour early, but I was able to finish anyway although a few of his features may or may not have been touched up to look a little more... appealing—for the lack of better term." The Royal Physician made a vague gesture with his hand.

"Right." Well there were rumors that Sokolov spent most of his live painting time on editing and touching up than actually painting, but you could never trust gossip. Corvo shifted his attention away from the image of Daud—he wasn't that ugly, but not exactly Prince Charming material either—past the painting of Trevor Pendleton and his brothers to the portrait of a woman in white, her back facing the viewer. "So what about this?"

"Lady Boyle, one of my newest work really. Nice to see that the paint has dried."

" _Which_ Boyle, Sokolov." Corvo raised a brow, recalling that the identity of the Lord Regent's main fundraiser was a reason why the Loyalist needed Sokolov alive.

"I honestly do not know." started the older man, huffing at the skeptical look aimed at him. "I painted her from behind. Apparently she felt that her face wasn't necessary and after a bit of arguing I had to settle for her back or nothing."

"Any details? How she held herself, speech quirks, habits?"

"Hmm. She wears strong perfume of Tyvian lilies, has the best rump off all the Isles, an excellent taste in wine and a tendency to look in the direction of every noise we heard."

"That's not enough."

"Well, there is a party being held in a few days time. I'm not attending and neither do I want to, I rather spend my night creating a cure of this damn plague, but I heard it's going to be one of the biggest party yet." Sokolov crossed his arms, a disgruntled look on his face. "It's in celebration of Lady Boyle's last night as a noblewoman, another one's going to be held at the Palace on the next day with her as the new Empress. I'm sure you heard the news. The Boyle always did have royal blood, just that the Kaldwins were more favored despite their distance. Furthermore, Burrow's supporting it, says that change of the throne would be better for everybody."

A party, no doubt with the security doubled- tripled really if Lady Boyle was really to be Empress. "I see."

"Are you going to kill her?"

Corvo frowned. They shared a dislike for nobility, but the witch didn't know how far it could be pushed before Sokolov turned on him. He took a moment to think, the Loyalist just wanted her out of the picture but 'out' didn't mean dead, and settled for honesty. "I might have to."

After a long moment, the doctor nodded. "...I understand."

They stood in silence, Corvo trying to collect his thoughts and plans while Sokolov fidgeted with his beard. Small movement in his coat made the witch look down, blinking at the little mouse shifting around to curl up comfortably. She peered back up at him. _'Don't forget the ring.'_

"Sokolov," The said man jerked to attention, quickly dropping his hands and Corvo eyed the line of washed out white along his index finger. "Where did you get that ring?"

"Why do you ask?" Sokolov raised a skeptical brow, a hand already rubbing the bone ring softly.

"I need it."

"I can see that, but what for? I know you well enough to know you care nothing for fashion, Corvo." scoffed the Royal Physician, shrugging. "Other than your hair, but that's mostly Jessamine's job."

Corvo narrowed his eyes, and didn't correct the other's last sentence. The idea of her name mentioned in past tense was...still jarring. Instead he focused on the task at hand. "It's for your own good, Sokolov."

"Fine, you can have it." The Lord Protector suppressed the small glint of hope, that things would go his way for once, and sighed inwardly as Sokolov continued, "On the condition that you will tell me how to get the Outsider's attention. They said he only looks at those who interest him, surely he has noticed what I've achieved."

"You could start with taking off that ring." Corvo lied through his teeth and didn't know what he was doing.

"What?"

"The ring is a protective charm against the Outsider," He really didn't know but he felt the flare of doubt flicker and grow steadily in Sokolov. It was working. "So long as you wear it, he cannot appear."

"You're serious?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

Sokolov stared and he unblinkingly stared back, before the older man's shoulders drooped. "Take it." he muttered as he twisted off the accessory, holding it out to Corvo.

Corvo grunted in thanks, dropping the ring in with the rat and ignored the tiny startled squeak. He glanced at the doorway and back at Sokolov. "I...have no intentions to kill you, but I don't think you should stay here anymore."

An expression of worried confusion crossed the Royal Physician's features, before morphing into light anger. "Is someone out to kill me?"

"Something like that." The witch shrugged, poking at the loopholes of Havelock's orders. They would take Sokolov as prisoner, but what if he came as a guest? Technically, he wasn't lying. Sokolov was a somebody, worth a coin to be removed by people he had probably angered while climbing up to the ranks. Maybe this Daud fellow might come after him as soon as Corvo left. "You are being targeted for supporting the Lord Regent. I know a group of people who are against him, they have reason to believe that he and Campbell had a hand in-"

"I know!" the other man snapped and sighed heavily. "I know. They were acting unusual that day, Campbell insisting to be painted and saying we couldn't take a break, Burrows looking at his pocket-watch more than usual. At first I thought it was your early return but..." Sokolov sighed, guilt plain for all to see. "I never believe what they said, that you killed her. Something was just wrong."

"You just need to hide from eyes," Until Burrows and Daud paid for their actions? And then what? The witch shook those thoughts away for later. "Until things are better."

"Right. Somewhere that the Lord Regent doesn't know of, most I know are either abandoned due to the plague or just inhabitable."

"There is a place. It belongs to the group I mentioned before, safe and," Corvo thought of Martin and Pendleton's new titles. "They can provide most of your needs. I can take you there right now."

Scratching his chin, Sokolov pursed his lips in thought. "Interesting, but I assume I won't be able to take most of my equipment there with me?"

"If they are important and light enough, the only way there is the river and my boatman won't allow things like that." The Lord Protector gestured to the glass cases that housed machinery parts and miniature versions of Sokolov's inventions. "They have their own supply of alcohol too."

"So long as it's nothing like what they're selling on the streets nowadays."

"As for equipment, there's a inventor working with them." Corvo could faintly recall reading a few books, listening to an audiograph or Piero's random rants while he upgraded the guard of the folding blade. He spoke of about being kicked out from the Academy. "Do you know a man named Piero Joplin?"

"Sounds familiar, perhaps a past acquaintance mentioned it before. Why?" The reply came too fast and Sokolov was toying with his beard again, but Corvo didn't address it.

"He made a potion for the plague, Piero's remedy. It might be a good idea to meet up with him."

"You mean that cheap, watered down excuse of a potion that's nothing compared to _my_ elixir?"

"It's not cheap."

"I refuse to taint my name by working with someone who copies my work."

The witch glared lightly, warning on his tone. "Sokolov."

"I'll think about it." grumbled the older man for a long moment, sounding like he was doing a chore. Still, the possibility of a cure. "No promises though."

"You should," replied Corvo and raised his head, eyeing the ceiling. He spoke so quietly that Sokolov had to strain to listen; "I can smell the despair from here."

Frowning, Sokolov followed his gaze and saw nothing, but had a feeling that the other was talking about his work in the greenhouse upstairs. Clearing his throat, Sokolov decided to move the conversation back to safer grounds. "I'll need grab some things from my lab, it will only take a few minutes."

"Take your time." The Lord Protector shifted and started for the door. "Wait outside by the underpass when you're done."

"One last question, Corvo." Sokolov called after him and the doctor's eyes were bright and burned with grim interest. "Campbell and the Pendleton brothers, they were your doing, yes?"

He paused, just a few feet away from the doorway. Beyond the glass, the captain of a patrol shouted orders. They had finally noticed. Corvo nodded and Sokolov went on, "You will be going after Daud?"

A moment passed and another nod.

"Good." Sokolov smiled briefly, sad and pained. "I'm just thankful that someone's doing her justice."

Me too, thought the witch and he stepped out silently, doors closing behind as he Blinked up to a guard and hooked an arm around his neck.

 

* * *

 

It was getting colder, Samuel noted and pulled his scarf tighter with a hand while the other fumbled for his lighter and smoke. The only sounds were the river and the wind whistling at the end of the bridge, occasionally the dragging of heavy feet above would make him straighten and shift further away from the steps that led down to him, but they would always walk away soon enough. Odd, at least an hour ago they were loud and complaining; an early warning he would use in case they came too near. However, they suddenly stopped and so did the constant buzzing Samuel had came to associate with danger.

Covering the flame until the tip of his cigarette flared, the boatman watched the drifts of smoke float away before the scrap of boots against stone made him look up. Corvo hopped down and landed quietly, a small cloud of dust around his feet as he nodded to Samuel, mask-less. "It's done."

"Done? But I don't- oh." Samuel blinked a few times when the other figure stumbled into sight, a large bag lugged behind him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sokolov."

"Good day to you, uh,"

"Samuel, I'm just the boatman." The old sailor turned to Corvo with a relieved smile and a shine of admiration in his eyes. "Well I'll admit, I didn't expect this. You did a good job, Corvo."

"Did you expect him to carry me here unconscious?" inquired Sokolov out of curiosity, a quick glance in Corvo's direction.

Samuel's answer was blunt and tinged with humor, helping the scientist put the luggage in the boat. "To be honest sir, yes."

The witch turned away from the two, half-listening to their small talk as he reached into his pocket for the ring. Fur tickled his fingers and the white rat sniffed them, the bone ring held in between her little paws. 'Sokolov watches you with unease. He saw the woman's body when he went back upstairs, laid carefully on the floor with her neck in the wrong angle. She looked almost peaceful, no longer suffering and he knows the lock was untouched.'

He hummed softly in response and plucked the ring from his small companion, pausing to let her nuzzle his hand. However, Corvo pulled away when the rat shifted around, her scrapping paws nudging the accessory to slip on his ring finger.

Corvo had a feeling that Granny wouldn't take it well knowing if he wore it and didn't feel like testing her. Even if nobody saw him, she would probably sniff him out. Still, it would have been amusing really, should this ring actually have the magical property of keeping the Outsider away. As far as Corvo knew, nothing would to stop the deity, besides leading a very predictable life.

"Ready to go, Corvo?" Samuel's voice dragged him back from his thoughts and the said man grunted, noticing that the other two had already settled down on the boat.

"Hang on." A distant squawk and flapping were his only warnings before the raven flew into Corvo's back, landing on the floor in a mess of feathers. The witch blinked and watched it hastily righted itself, hopping slightly and cawing angrily at him. Corvo simply raised a brow at it. "You flew into me."

The raven jerked its wings and fluffed its feathers indignantly, shaking itself as the man reached down to let it perch on a hand. Corvo's eyes widened at the sight of leather, slender but of good quality strapped around the bird's chest and back, small golden buckets locking it in place. He stared at it blankly, seeing Samuel leaned to the side at the corner of his vision.

"Oh, it's the bird again."

"You mean this is a common occurrence?" Sokolov whispered, looking at the bird in confused interest.

"Kind of, it's a messenger of sorts." Samuel shrugged. The witch ignored them, carefully inspecting the raven. "It took most of my lunch to get it to stop moving long enough to tie on the letter though. It didn't even eat it."

"What do you mean?"

"It just pulled pieces of bread and dropped it into the river until a hagfish came up. Then caught that fish and ate it instead."

There was a small pouch attached to the bird's back, a simple but effective hook keeping the flap shut and comfortable for the creature.

_I have detailed information that will be of use for you._

Corvo narrowed his eyes at the note, making his way to sit beside Sokolov without looking up. The same handwriting as the address he had yet to burn, and the one asking if he was dead.

"The workmanship is impressive, you paid well for this." the Royal Physician commented and moved back slightly when the bird cawed in his face, while the boat rocking as the engine started.

With a shrug, Corvo slumped in his place with the intention to rest. Samuel explaining to Sokolov about the Loyalist conspiracy became a background noise, alongside the river and seagulls above. A soft chirp-coo from the raven as it hopped onto the Lord Protector's shoulder, puffing up its feathers again and pressing itself close to his chin. Corvo snorted at the fluff that brushed his cheeks and neck, but allowed it to stay on its perch.

The sun was sinking down the river's horizon by the time they reached their destination, Samuel gently shaking the witch awake from unexpected nap. The bird was gone and Havelock waited by the cobblestone steps, eyes wide as Sokolov and Corvo got off. The Admiral's hands twitched, the witch noted, for the gun across his chest perhaps but was too tired to care.

Shaking off the haze that followed sleep, he headed off to Piero to give a number of things he found. The usual copper wires, ores and a few blueprints that the inventor took up with light interest and nodded when Piero asked for his mask and a few hundred coins. They had seen Sokolov enter the Hounds Pit Pub, irritation and disgust darkening Piero's complaints and Corvo grunted in return.

Havelock called for him, standing outside the workshop and Corvo sighed through his nose.

"I see that you succeeded in bring us the Royal Physician." the admiral started and Corvo tuned him out, watching the older man's lips move in the one-sided conversation.

 _''The Admiral dreamt of fire eating away at his feet, locked in while flames consumed the pub. He woke up in a cold sweat, looking at the window first, then at the door."_ The witch put a hand into his coat, gently cupping the white rat as he waited. She made a chirp of delight, curling up into a ball to sleep and went on, _"Every night he checks to make sure the extra key in between his bedframe is still there."_

Turning his attention back, Corvo caught a few words, praises of how he did an impossible task and about the mystery noble funding the Lord Regent before Havelock stopped; actually waiting for a reply. Corvo had none. "Are you done yet?"

"Well, yes." Havelock raised a brow at the bluntness. "I guess we should turn in for the night." He tried a smile, to lighten the mood. "Long day, huh?"

Corvo sighed, but appreciated the attempt. "Too long."

"I know how it feels," The Lord Protector resisted a snort at those words. "But things will get better, with our Lord Pendleton in the Parliament and Martin as High Overseer. We will give the Lord Regent what he deserves and avenge the Empress and her daughter."

If Havelock noticed the younger man stiffened at his words, he didn't mention. "Lady Boyle's party is by the end of this week, you'll have time to rest and prepare. I'll make sure Piero provides you with as much ammunition you need, and maybe get Sokolov to help out."

"I'll keep that in mind," Corvo nodded and turned for the boat when a heavy hand dropped on his shoulder.

"You're more than welcomed to stay, there's a warm meal inside." The Admiral half-smiled, gesturing to the pub entrance with a thumb. Corvo glanced over and spotted a bob of auburn hair peeking out from behind the wall by the iron gate, quickly ducking out of sight.

"I'll be fine. Good night, Havelock." The said man's smile grew strained but he nodded and returned the greeting, letting Corvo slip away. The witch ignored the gaze following as he went to retrieve his mask from Piero, walking to the gate.

_"A feral dog that needs to be chained and feared, he sees in you. While you have done what is asked, he is starting wonder if giving you freedom in exchange for an assassin, someone to do what nobody else dares, was worth it."_

"You're rather talkative today." murmured the witch. A low chirp was his answer.

"Corvo." Callista waited by the backdoor of Piero's workshop, looking tired like she forgone a few hours of sleep. The lines of stress and shadows under her eyes making her look older than she should be. She raised her brows at his disarray appearance, not even sugarcoating her words, "You look like shit."

He snorted. "So do you."

Her lips twitched upwards followed by a quiet laugh she didn't care to muffle. Corvo waited for her to finish with a soft smile. "Thanks," The caretaker smiled back, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "So how did you convince Sokolov to come willingly? Did you wave a bottle of whiskey under his nose?"

"I might have." Corvo replied, echoing the light humor in her question. He started up the steps by the tower's base—the second bed still untouched and empty but nobody bothered to remove it—for privacy and she followed, moving faster than him. "How're things?"

"Alright. Lord Pendleton just returned the manor a few hours ago; he's been planning to move back. Same goes for Overseer Martin, although I guess that's going to change with Mr. Sokolov here." sighed Callista as they stopped by the space that overlooked the river. The night was clear enough to see the scattered lights across, the chimes of the old clock tower barely audible to them. From here, it was ironic how close the prison looked to palace. Sometimes, Corvo wondered what would had happened if he had chosen for the palace then, for the Lord Regent's head then with its lesser defense, instead of the sewers; would he had been successful?

Maybe, but either way it was too late.

"There used to be more lights," Callista breathed solemnly, before turning to him with a frown. "Corvo, I need to talk to you. It's... important."

He nodded, noting the younger woman's hesitation and how her gaze settled for the floor instead of him.

"Few days ago, Wallace asked Lydia and me to help move some things to Lord Pendleton's manor. Nothing special, just some wine and that heavy audiograph he keeps in his room." She started fidgeting, light brushes along the line of her apron or tugging at her leather gloves. "Seemed like his brothers had most of the staff fired to save money, so there were a number of servants applying in. Wallace was put in charge of interviewing—knowing him, none of them would stand a chance—and Lydia went out for a smoke. I stayed inside and spoke to some of the maids waiting for their turn."

Corvo's brows furrowed in confusion and worry as Callista's uneasiness grew. The temptation to ask how was this related to him was pushed aside for a simple nod of encouragement and quiet words. "Go on."

"We talked, about their previous employer and the plague and then the Pendletons," Callista's eyes went wide as she took a deep breath. "They knew the maid who the twins fired, the girl who saw Lady Emily, and one of them had a cousin working in Dunwall Palace—there's something wrong."

"Just get to the point," he sighed, tired but not unkindly.

"The body's gone!" blurted out Callista before she slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her gasp and threw a quick glance around them to see if anyone was in hearing distance. Corvo did the same on instinct sans the face-slapping, finding only Piero's busy figure and Samuel's faint silhouette.

If Callista saw his eyes turned a shade too dark for a heartbeat and back to its normal sea hue in the next blink, she didn't show it. Instead, she pressed closer to him and hissed, "They say that there was no body, that they cremated an empty coffin, Corvo."

The witch didn't answer and Callista continued, her voice becoming frantic and hushed, "She said that it was after the funeral. Her cousin was asked to clean up a mess by the room next to the Lord Regent's, Campbell was there and most of the guards were restricted to the second floor. She overheard them through this two way fireplace, auguring about the funeral. Burrows was panicking and kept repeating that the body disappeared and Campbell told him to shut up, because it was already sealed and burnt and nobody must know-" Callista froze, whites around her eyes. "Word is on the street, they say. The nobles who heard don't dare speak of it, afraid that the City Watch will take them in for questioning b-but it's just rumors and I... Corvo?"

He barely heard her, swallowing dryly to ignore the bubbling in his chest. It felt like drowning, being held underwater yet the surface was only a few inches away, then being shoved down deeper.

However the sight of Callista's frightened form awoke a parental instinct that had been forgotten for awhile, honed by years of guarding a young girl—who was far more mature and insightful for her age—as she grew into an Empress and watching over the child that followed, glowing with innocence. The instinct called for comfort and to smother them in reassurance when it was dark and storming and her mother was too tired to wake up.

Jessamine never wanted the same brand of comfort he gave Emily; it was either his quiet presence when the burdens on her shoulders were too much, or covet smiles and quiet promises in the dark.

Even so, the moment was quickly shattered when Callista jerked away violently.

Her fear and paranoia were genuine, but not directly aimed at him. Corvo didn't know if that was a good thing.

"I-I need to go, sorry." She turned away, not daring to look back. Corvo's expression was so blank moments ago, lost to the world and staring past her before. Then he blinked hard and actually looked at her. Callista tensed up, the abrupt sharp look of focus and something dark made her stomach dropped cold when he reached out to her.

How his fingers violently twitched reminded her of the plenty rumors on how he had killed people.

But then again, anyone could kill if pushed hard enough to break.

He waited until Callista was out of sight, her yellow form disappearing up the stairs to the second floor. The hand reaching out, scarred and unbranded, dropped to grip the other tightly.

"Is it true?" Corvo asked quietly, gaze fixed on the buildings across the river. The air was unnaturally cold, enough to numb his fingers but the god was nowhere in sight, and neither did the witch make an effort to check.

There used to be more lights.

No answer. The little white rat only stared up at him from his pocket, dark beady eyes unblinkingly and bright.

Gritting his teeth, Corvo picked her up and let her hop onto the stone wall separating them from Wrenhaven river. "You had so much to say earlier; why won't you talk about this?"

She sniffed the cold surface of the wall and shivered from the wind, too used to the warmth of his pocket. _''There are things not meant to be talked about. My lips are sealed."_

Corvo was willing to wait, crossing his arms as the mouse made an odd squeal, before sitting on her haunches and grooming herself. _'Those who walk in the Void will know, especially the god himself.'_

"He won't tell, would make things too easy and less entertaining." Corvo snorted and glanced over to where Samuel was, holding his hand to the rodent. With a delighted squeak she ran up his arm, little claws scratching the sleeve to his right shoulder and fumble over the high collar to curl up in the warm space against his neck.

 _"Maybe if you insist, he will."_ After a long pause, she nuzzled his stubble jaw and purred. _"You are the favorite."_

"Not going to poke that subject with a ten-foot pole." He stated with a deadpan look, then pursed his lips thoughtfully. "So what can you not tell me?"

_"What can you not ask?"_

"Is-" The Royal Protector hesitated, a small hope clawing its way in and gripped his heart. What if, what if there was no need for all of this because she's actually -

"Was there really a body."

The funeral and announcements could had been a hoax, to throw them off track and she was still somewhere out there warm and breathing. He wanted to believe, even if it meant lying to himself.

_"…Yes."_

The white rat waited for another question but it never came, Corvo going silent as he walked over to the riverbank. She looked up with worry, about to squeak something to reassure but froze up and fell quiet again a heartbeat later.

In due time.

"Heading back, Corvo?" Samuel looked up from checking his engine, cleaning oil off his hands on a small cloth from his jacket. "It's almost an hour past dusk and I'm already weary to the bone; but it's probably nothing compared to yours."

He gave a grunt in reply, emotionally drained and didn't bother to be careful when he slumped in the boat. Samuel didn't complain, swaying with the vessel's sudden rocking with ease as he requested a minute to prepare the boat.

"Alright and ready to go," the boatman announced and started the motor. When they were out in deeper waters, Corvo remembered the crumbled note from sometime ago, still folded and waiting to be used.

"Do you know who lives here?" Asked the witch as he retrieved the paper, passing it to the other. Samuel squinted at the address, mouthing the words and raised a brow.

"Estate District, no doubt an aristocrat but there's a chance it could be abandoned due to the rats." Samuel said with a shrug and handed the note back, "I don't really know much about who lives where, just the houses of power like the Pendletons and Boyles but I can get us there via the Serpentine. Do you need to go there now?"

"How long would it take?"

Samuel frowned lightly and slowed the vessel, "about an hour, more if the River Patrol's up."

Grimacing at the thought, Corvo quickly shook his head. He already had enough on his plate, the invitation was likely to be an ambush too. It could wait. "Forget it. It's not important, Flooded District."

"Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bought that Bioshock package and I drowned in it, became the best daddy who ever daddy-ed because I carry my little babies instead of letting them walk in front of me into Splicers and dangerous rocks. Also, school and I just recently played Knife of dunwall i am trash, it's awesome but i'm shit at it.
> 
> *lays down and rolls around* sorry it took so long enjoy the story.
> 
> Beta by Mei.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today we talk to the dead baby girl, Granny's wedding, a dog and how Martin sleeptalks. Also, Daud.

"Corvo."

There was someone sitting on his chest.

"Corvooo, hey, wake up."

He already knew who it was.

_But it can't be._

"Wake up," He kept his expression and body lax, smiling inwardly when he heard the person mockingly sigh and take a deep breath. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up- "

A smile threatened to slip when she gave up at the eighteenth count. Days like these were a treasured rarity, when he would somehow oversleep and Jessamine would send in someone to wake him, usually a servant, but Emily prided herself in the art of waking Corvo up.

The said girl giggled and rolled off him, attacking his sides with wiggling fingers. "Get up, Corvo!"

It's... just a dream.

"I can see you smiling, you know." He turned away with his back to her to avoid the tickles, earning him a huff. The bed shifted and the pillow under his head was yanked away, together with a soft sound of victory. When he didn't react, Emily groaned, using the stolen pillow to thump against his back. "Aw, come on, Corvo."

It had to be. Because there was no other way yet, right?

A few seconds passed and Emily lowered her voice to something for storytelling, much like her mother's, he realized; "The huntress found her target: a huge sleeping dragon that could swallow her in one gulp, but she did not flee. In fact she leaped at him with all her might!"

Before he could react, Emily pounced. He grunted in surprise at the sudden weight, and didn't stop the second grunt when Emily started shaking him. "The dragon was easily defeated and the Isle were saved once more, all thanks to the huntress. The end!"

Corvo snorted and rolled over, throwing an arm over her gently. The action earned a squeal, followed by laughter as his fingers brushed a ticklish area. "N-no! Stop- gah!" Emily pressed her lips into a tight line to hold back the giggles, glaring at him with as much seriousness that she could muster. "This is cheating, Mister Corvo!"

He answered her accusation by closing his eyes and blowing softly into her ear.

_This is just a dream._

"Hey! Come on, let me up. Or else we're going to miss breakfast. Mother got that Serkonan sweet bread you like but I will eat them all if you don't get up."

"Hm."

"So you are awake!" came her triumphant cry, and Corvo grunted again when her elbow dug into his lower abdomen—she grinned sheepishly at the quiet 'oof' and quickly pulled the offending limb away—in her attempt to sit up. "Let's go then before they turn cold. Does it have a name?"

"Tortas."

He opened an eye to watch her struggle with the foreign word. "Tortas."

"You're doing well."

Emily brightened visibly and blushed at the praise. "Thanks. The teacher says Serkonan dialects are more smoother than ours and have a lot of R's and," She paused, nodding firmly followed by a thoughtful look. "Something about spices. Can languages be spicy, Mister Corvo?"

"They can be seen as 'romantic' or 'polite'."

"Cool," The girl's eyes widened in wonder. She leaned forward. "So which one's which?"

Humming in thought, he released her and shifted closer to the edge of the bed so she had more room to flop about. Emily curled up against him, head dropping on the crook of his shoulder with a happy sigh. "Mostly Serkonan and Tyvian accents for romance," he said, "Gristol as the latter."

"So how come you don't talk that much?"

"I'd have too many admirers," The Royal Protector smiled and Emily hid a laugh behind her hand. "Your Mother has enough attention, I wouldn't need any."

"Well, I'm sure you already have some even if you don't."

_Please don't wake up._

He tucked her head under his chin, half-listening to her rambling and answering in occasional grunts or nods. If Corvo tried hard enough, he could smell the light flora-scented shampoo the maids insisted to use. At some point of time, Emily had wiggled out from under him to start braiding his hair, humming an old sea shanty she had learnt before while he stared out of the window across them. Blue, an unnatural shade of it. The Void stared back from behind the glass. Corvo wondered if she would notice.

"Were there any whales?"

Blinking away sleepy tears, Corvo cocked his head at the question. "Whales?"

"Yes, you went to find help for Mother. Remember? For the plague."

_Don't wake up._

"...Plenty. We saw a whole pod by Whitecliff," he answered slowly, the feeling of dread seeping in and mixing with confusion. It's just a dream.

_Please. It's been so long and he just wants to listen to a voice he cannot hear anymore._

"Cool. I met one too, or at least that's what he told me." With a small laugh, Emily gingerly intertwined the braid with another lock of hair. "Says that he's a very old, older than everyone but doesn't look like it. I'll admit, he's kind of weird, but nice."  
The Royal Protector said nothing, blood running cold as he sat up to look at his charge.

_Not yet._

"He told me a lot of things, how not to get bored, how to make the things I want appear. I taught him how to have tea parties and we got to eat all the cake I wanted..." Emily then sighed heavily, cheer falling from her face as she whispered, "I can do anything I want here except leave b-but I missed you and mother so much... so he let me see you again. I'm not supposed to be able to, where I am, so he made me promise something, in return of bringing you here."

A thousand questions threatening to spill, Corvo bit his lip and reminded himself to breathe when his chest grew painful. It wasn't a dream—if his depressed mind or the Outsider was the cause, this was certainly a nasty piece of work—but he didn't care. In the end, in the sea of desperate words, two slipped out:

"I'm sorry."

"Corvo?" Emily frowned worriedly when the man pulled her into a tight hug, cradling her head closely. "Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry," She made a confused noise at the muffled voice, but didn't try to pull away. "I was too late."

A long moment passed. Emily simply laid there quietly before she spoke; "It's not your fault."

Corvo took longer, not looking up from burying his face in her hair. Emily poked and stroke his shoulder, coaxing her father figure to pull away enough, and smiled as much as she could for him. "You can still make it in time. He says you will."

"What's the promise?"

"I... can't tell you. It's part of it." Emily murmured, glancing to the side. "I guess he just wants you to know that I'm safe."

The witch ignored the heat behind his eyes, snatching back his composure with shaking hands and an iron grip. "How long have you been here."

"Too long," she whispered with a frown, toying with her fingers. "The clocks here don't work and it feels like a really long time. I tried asking her, but even she doesn't know."

"Her?"

"It's complicating," Emily started with a shrug, tugging at her clothes. She was wearing a violet dress with frills, the one she wore on her birthday last year. Corvo frowned at the dark patch on her blouse, like a spilt drink that had soaked through the fabric front and back. The stain was out of place, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that it was familiar and wrong to appear on Emily. "We tend to argue every time we talk, but she's actually sort of nice once you get to know her. I think it's because she's really upset at something."

"Who is she?"

"I... I don't know, she doesn't want to tell me but I think she knew me. I mean, she knew me before we met and she knows Mother and you," The girl paused and tensed up, eyes growing wide. "Mother. C-Corvo, did she - " Emily swallowed, forcing herself to continue in a tight, strained voice. "Is she really...?"

Corvo turned away, gaze avoiding hers. He nodded.

"Oh." He heard Emily take a sharp breath, before letting out a quiet whimper when he placed an arm on her shoulders to pull her close. She leaned in with it and pressed her face into his shirt. "Was the funeral pretty? Were there any flowers?"

"It was beautiful, the people cried for her." And you, Corvo wanted to say but his throat tightened until it hurt. "What do you remember? Before coming here."

"Huh? Um, I was in a small room. There were a lot of ladies working there, most of them were really nice; one of them gave me cookies." Emily's eyes were misty in thought. She frowned as she spoke. "But I wanted to go home, I kept trying to escape. Almost got out too, so they moved me elsewhere. I don't really know what happened afterward, all I remember was that I was really scared."

The desire to ask for more was overwhelming, to know if she remembered Daud's men or if she knew the rumors of her coffin being cracked open and sealed empty. At the same time, he was afraid of the answer. Instead, Corvo opted to comfort her and privately, himself. "I'm here now, you're safe."

A genuine smile broke out on Emily, nodding slowly. "Yeah." she murmured before she froze, her gaze shifting to the window and around quickly as if searching for something before she breathed, "Oh no."

The whole room shook once, colors of everything but them shivering to dull shades the Void brought. The air grew colder by the second, and Corvo would had noticed that Emily didn't share the small white cloud when she breathed out, but his attention was diverted to the cracks that started form on the far wall.

"Emily?"

"Shhh!" she hissed as the bodyguard swiftly pulled her back, setting himself between her and the growing cracks. The room shook again, a distant sound echoing closer and Emily gripped his arm tightly. "She must have noticed I was gone and is trying to get in. You have to go."

"No."

Emily looked pained, worry and slight annoyance on her features. The room's door, white and gold with the Kaldwin crest on their far right, clicked open ominously by the slightest, allowing a line of white to shine in. "Corvo, I'm serious, you must leave before she gets here."

He didn't answer as he gently unlatched himself from her to stand. While he didn't have his weapons, the Mark's heat reassured him that he wasn't exactly helpless. Behind, Emily yanked at his coat as hard as she could, in the direction of the door. "Please you have to go! You need to wake up!"

No response came, so the girl ducked in front of him, on the verge of shouting as the cracks grew and covered the wall and was now spreading to the rest of the room. "I-I order you to wake up! Right now, Corvo."

The Lord Protector blinked slowly, glancing down at his charge. The increasing desperation was clear, and it settled a little when Emily caught a flash of hesitation crossed his face. "Please, Corvo."

Corvo smiled sadly. "You're not Empress yet, Em."

"You don't understand! If she catches you, she will trap you here forever and... and-" she trailed off, tears at the corner of her eyes threatening to fall. All around trembled yet the sounds were muted, leaving only their conversation and the ever existing whalesong of the Void. The cracks crept, only a few feet away from them. "And I won't be able to see you ever again."

He didn't know which hurt more, watching her cry or forcing himself to keep the smile up as Corvo dropped to his knees and let Emily throw herself at him. "P-promise me," she sobbed against his shoulder as he hugged her as tightly as he could without causing harm, "that you'll come back for me."

"I promise."

Emily pulled away to plant a kiss on his cheek, hiccuping as Corvo placed one on her forehead. She choked back a heart-wrenching sob as he murmured, "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." whispered Emily, slipping out of the hug. She nudged him towards the door, swiping her face with the back of her hands as he stepped over to the door.

The light that shone from the other side was blinding, it didn't seemed to have an end; just an endless road of white consuming all. Even so, Corvo forced himself to step in and not turn back, knowing that if he did, he would not allow himself to leave Emily again despite her wishes.

He didn't want to go.

Behind him, the door was still wide open and a voice, familiar and reminding him of better times, yet twisted with sharp words and venom, called out. Jessamine had never sounded so... hateful. She was angry, stern and sometimes cold but not like this. Not even when a nobleman once made an offhanded comment in her face, implying that Emily was a bastard child or that a woman like her should marry, how many men would be worthy by their family names and wealth. She hated those with a passion, but even then she never sounded like this. Despite that knowledge, Corvo could see Jessamine in his mind's eye, outrage in her eyes and her lips deep in a frown.

Then Emily argued back, sounding so angry and scared at the same time, he almost didn't hear her words.

Get away from us.

Silence for a long moment, before the women who was not Jessamine—he refused to believe—spat something back. It was then followed by a flesh hitting flesh, a slap, and a cry of pain from Emily.

His eyes widened and Corvo snarled, the Mark burnt as he spun around to face the door in a last effort to stay. Emily was crying hard, sending him bristling and shaking in animalistic rage. He Blinked to the door, forgetting how to breathe when he spotted the small form of a girl crumpled on the floor.

Emily looked up at him, face wet with tears and a red handprint on her cheek. That was all he saw before a hand grabbed the back of his neck and _tugged_. He swore murder and stepped back unwillingly, the door closing and clicking shut.

"Let go of me!" he snapped, body feeling heavy and alien like he was just a marionette being lifted by the strings. Unable to struggle away, Corvo reached out to the door, fingers barely an inch away from the handle when a puff of air, a sigh, brushed his ear.

"My dear."

The grip tightened by the slightest. Corvo sensed the being's gaze upon him—in question or in annoyance, maybe in the ever fascination the Outsider talked about, Corvo didn't know nor did he care. He just wanted to make the other person in that room regret everything, to cradle Emily against his chest and hide her from the world forever.

It felt like drowning and he did not want to breathe, akin to a whale diving deeper to avoid being dragged up to the surface by harpoons in his flesh. He didn't need air, he just need a reason to live.

Whoever Emily was talking to, who hurt her, had turned its attention to him. Corvo would gladly face them, greet them with a smile and promise of ruin.

"Not now, Corvo." The pale hand stroked his neck, as if attempting to comfort him. The harpoons sunk in deeper, tearing at the scales and the waters were misty with red. He didn't know if the whalesong that rang in his head was the Void or his scream of frustration and rage. Emily was right there, with only a door and an impostor between them!

"You will see them again, but in due time."

The hand yanked.

He woke up choking on air and scrambled up blindly, trying to recognize his surroundings in panic as his lungs burned. The room was dark, no windows and scent of salt and rot hung in the air. It wasn't his room in the Palace, nor the tiny one in prison.

A glance to the floor, at the scattered pieces of carved bones that were pushed off the lush purple bedsheets during his struggle, at the lanterns' oil that had finally burnt out around the room, confirmed his suspicions. Right, the bedroom-turned-shrine downstairs. Corvo did not bother pondering on how or when he got here. He recalled falling asleep elsewhere but if the Outsider was involved, sometimes it was easier to go with it. The air was still so cold, he mused grimly while gingerly rubbing the Mark. The glow was just starting to die, the obvious warmth singing high with energy and tension. There was pain on the back of his neck, similar to a burn, but Corvo's own hand came back clean when he touched the unbroken skin.

Slowly standing up, he swiftly collected the fallen runes and charms to set them back on the bed. The whole house was quiet, missing the usual whistle of the wind and shuffling of the rats. Even the river was quiet, as if holding their breaths and waiting.  
It did not last long. The rats greeted him with squeaks, many eyes peeking out from cracks and under the rubble of the first floor. "It was raining and started flooding, so we came down here," they said as the swarm poured out from their nest to linger around his feet, scuttling to follow as Corvo made his way to the kitchen.

"Where's the white one?" he asked, finding a pan and stepping outside. The raincatcher was working well; the water was clean enough as he filled the pan.

Funny, how he remembered finding it—it was a few days ago, right?—but not actually bringing it back.

 _"Which white one?"_ one of the rats squeaked, watching him break off a useless chair leg to fuel the fireplace. They chirped in appreciation when the witch poured some of the water into a bowl, then set it on the floor for them while kindling the fire.

Grunting, Corvo poured the rest of the pan's water into the pot—washed and clean of 'Outsider's Piss', thank the stars—as the fire grew steadily. "Brown-eyed, likes to hide in my pockets."

They huddled around the bowl, whispering and asking one another. No answer came even as the water bubbled and he finished drinking, Corvo frowned. "What about Granny then?"

_"She's home, a lovely home she found long ago. The people before left whales there so she used the bones into pretty gifts for everyone, like you did. We'll bring you to her. It's not that far and the sewers go everywhere."_

He nodded, pulling the Sokolov's ring from his coat. This and the rumors Callista heard, Granny would know. "I need to talk to her."

"Of course you do, dearie."

Corvo whipped around, nearly dropping the ring and stared at her. She smiled back, a teacup of plain water in hand while the rats squealed and chatted around them in delight.

"You need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Granny asked innocently.

"That, appearing whenever we talk about you."

Granny took a calm sip, smile growing in amusement. "Granny has eyes everywhere, dear."

"You're blind." He couldn't help but deadpan.

"Yes, I know," she laughed quietly, vanishing in a flash of gold and dark tatters. Her voice carried on from above and a quick check with Dark Vision showed that she was already upstairs. With a huff, Corvo slipped the ring back into his pocket and left the kitchen, Blinking after her. "But some things just cannot go unnoticed, even to the sightless."

"Such as?" He tilted his head at her as Granny dusted the bed sheets, rearranging the bones and then the lanterns. She tapped the lamp on the desk, shook it a little and fiddled with the switch.

"Such as those men who now watch from the rooftops," The older witch smiled as the lantern flickered alive, but the flame shone a normal light, looking out of place in the shrine. Granny turned away and gestured for Corvo to follow, they Blinked to the third floor balcony, Granny pointing upwards. "They were afraid at first, but orders were orders. It was this or face their leader's wrath."

Corvo's eyes widened at the sight of a figure wearing a whaler mask, crouched at the edge of the rooftops. The assassin didn't seem to have seen them yet. "What do you know about Daud?"

"Killer of an Empress, people will tell their children, how he brought ruin to an entire city by ripping away one thing that was holding it together," Granny sighed and placed a hand under her chin thoughtfully, "yet they will forget to mention something equally as important. I wonder if it will matter then."

The assassins flinched when they were noticed, disappearing before Corvo could Blink up and stop them. Granny simply shook her head and tutted, "Oh, they won't bother us. The birdies heard their master warned each of them to just watch and nothing else. He's still not ready, I presume."

"Ready? What is he waiting for?"

Granny shrugged and turned away from the balcony. "They are weak. The Abbey, fools managed to find them with help. Quite a few bodies too. Pity he chose to burn them; my birdies would had fed well."

"I don’t think they need help finding food in a place like this." The woman smiled in agreement, stepping over to the nearby table. When silence fell and the old witch didn't seemed to be interested in starting a conversation, Corvo spoke up; "There have been rumors going around -"

"Yes, yes, the body." she cut him off and he watched as she inspected the tools used for carving bone, picking the thinnest knife to drag across the table's surface. "You don't have to worry."

"Where is she."

"Somewhere safe."

Corvo narrowed his eyes, recalling the other woman with Emily. She was no way safe, they had to hurry. "That isn't very reassuring, Granny."

"I'm helping you, dearie, and we will need her to be safe and taken care of if we're going to finish this." explained Granny, a hint of a frown and concern in her voice. "Don't you trust little old Granny Rags?"

"No."

She broke out in a crackle that made him cringe inwardly, the blade scratching out symbols to fill the circle on the table. "Neither do I, sometimes." The elderly lady raised a hand just as Corvo opened his mouth to retort. "But I promise, no harm will come to your little girl." Her voice grew quiet and dark. "I've made sure of it."

"...I want to see her."

Granny sighed, finishing her drawing with a few flicks of the blade. "And you will soon, just not yet." She ignored the low growl Corvo emitted. "Oh, and before I forget, my ring?"

  
The Lord Protector scowled at the change of subject but handed her the accessory. A wide smile lifted her lips as Granny eagerly traced the signs carved into the bone. "Excellent. Thank you, dearie. Now all I need is to burn away that Tvyian artist's essense and my wedding dress."

"Aren't you already married?" Corvo rested against the wall, studying how Granny completed her drawing by cutting her hand and letting a few drops of blood fall on it. The sigil glowed and hissed when the red spread through the lines.

"Oh yes, he was a gentleman, but nobody can hold a candle to my black-eyed love." Granny chuckled quietly, arranging the knives to the left side of the desk. "Not even the Emperor. My momma was so upset when I rejected that proud man, but I will never regret my choice.

"Plus, it helps that all that's left of my old husband are bones." she added with a gleeful look, appearing younger in her delight as she glanced over to Corvo. "Tell me, dearie, what colour scheme should I use?"

With a sigh, Corvo crossed his arms and humored her. "Gristol weddings are mostly in white."

"My family was from Morley, we almost never used white." Granny hummed thoughtfully, and he cocked his head in interest at mentions of her past. "Blue is the colour of the bride. Do you think we could find the same kind of blue as the Void?"

"Tailor district, although I believe they prefer warm colours over cool." Corvo said with a shrug. Most of Dunwall's aristocrats lavished their homes in favored rich golds and red, it was rare any of them would have blue wallpapers considering the gloomy weather of the city, while purple was for... other uses. "The nobles here find the latter too dull."

"What about purple then? Tradition blue is nice, but I'm thinking maybe a bit of violet lace. It'd match the shrines. Do you think He would like that?"

"I'm more worried if he's going to show up at all."

Granny's smile turned from dreamy to sharp, her milky blind eyes meeting his for a moment, before dropping back to the knives. "Nobody can run from fate, dearie, _nobody_."

"Right, then what about the guest list?"

"I have some people in mind. Thankfully, most of them are still alive." She chuckled at the bewildered look Corvo shot her. "You can be my bridesmaid, while little Emily can be the flower girl."

"...Do I have to wear a dress?"

"If I can find enough fabric, otherwise dolling up your hair will do just fine. Morley brides forgo the veil, we would braid our hair with ribbons and wildflower." Sighing happily, Granny Rags started to slowly pace in the room while Corvo stared at her in horror over her strangely youthful eagerness. "Also, I do hope Miss Emily is not allergic to flowers. It would defeat the purpose of a flower girl, and I think she would look lovely in a flower crown, don't you agree?"

"She isn't," Corvo said slowly and observed the multiple cuts that were only just beginning to heal on the other woman's hands, something he had not noticed earlier. "We made daisy chains before."

"Well, Dunwall doesn't have much flora range to offer. The best we have would be orchids and roses, most of the lavender and daisies are found outside here. Perhaps we could host the wedding in Morley; it's much more prettier there. And find two more crows if you would, there's a saying that three crows are good omens for marriage. Either that or it was magpies."

"What happened to your hands?"

The older witch blinked slowly and glance down in surprise as if she hadn't noticed them either, rubbing them gently. "Ah, yes. Granny was busy finding one of the important ingredients we needed a few days ago. There is this tree that couldn't be burnt or cut with metal, so I had to use my bare hands to rip the sampling. The owner did a horrible job hiding the entrance, but had enough sense to plant a large rose bush to guard it."

"Why do we need a tree."

"Because we don't want everything to fall apart just because we brought the wrong person back."

"You knew." It wasn't a question, Corvo glared at her with a sense of betrayal and the cold anger from the dream—nightmare flared to life. "Who is she?"

"You should ask Daud yourself," Granny replied with a vague wave, turning back to the knives. "I'm sure he would be more than willing to share."

"What else are you not telling me?" the Lord Protector growled bitterly. It was not a surprise Granny Rags would keep things from him, but it didn't mean he liked it any better.

"Anything that would complicate things," Granny suddenly spun around to face him, her gaze with such clarity and fire that Corvo nearly took a step back. She looked alive, dropping the vulnerable old lady ruse for something that would burn brighter. "The birdies told me that they are worried for you. For three days straight, you didn't speak or eat. Three days, boy."

Oh. He was wondering if she knew the cause or what had happened exactly. Guess no. "I didn't -"

"If you knew everything, the whys and hows, do you think you would still be stable enough not to destroy everything in your path?"

Corvo did not answer, Granny sighed as her stern expression softened. "Your love and devotion for her is a rarity in this time and while I do not care for what happens to this city; the girl deserves an Empire to rule, not pieces to salvage and fix."

All of they had done and yet to do, blood waiting to be split for another.

"We won't fail." She said as if hearing the doubt and paranoia in his thoughts, how a single misguided detail could lead the plan tumbling down into the Void. "I promise you that."

A long moment passed before the Lord Protector gave in, glare losing its heat. "I'm starting to think you're investing too much in this."

"It's not that bad," Granny said with a hint of a coy smile, glancing to the side and then back at him. "Plus, I rather not have my bridesmaid backstab me on the big day."

"As long as I can actually breathe in the dress." Corvo remembered attending a wedding where the bride fainted, her corset pulled too tight. When was the last time he had seen a happy wedding? It felt like years ago.

Granny laughed softly at that, walking over to the balcony. "We're halfway done, all we need is a couple more things and time. Which reminds me, you need to pay him a visit soon."

"Daud?"

"A key ingredient," Her smile fell away and was replaced with a strange, unreadable look. The older witch gazed blankly up at the rooftops, where the assassin previously stood, "You need the sword that went through little Emily's heart."

"Anything else?" Corvo asked, his expression carefully empty.

"The murderer's blood on the blade, you don't have to kill him though." Granny paused to think, before adding, "If you're planning to strike, now is a good time. Daud is recovering, both from forces inside and out. Spare him, or kill him, it's up to you."

"What would you do?"

The elderly woman's brows rose in confusion, echoing, "What would I do?"

"Would you spare him?"

"Personally," a slow smile crept on her face and the rats around Granny Rags's feet chirpped and hissed, "I would fray his skin and force him to watch his flesh melt from his bones, let the little birdies feast on his limbs while he lived. Then maybe, just maybe, I would kill him."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Tell him, the black-eyed one," she whispered, turning on her heel towards the broken stairway, "that Granny is doing her part, dearie. Tell him."

The wind howled and whipped up the room, having leaves and dust dance in its way as Granny Rags left, her rats scattering into the cracks and pipes until only Corvo's own swarm remained. He took the moment to steady himself and breathe, tasting ash on his tongue before looking up.

"Take me back."

The Outsider simply cocked his head at Corvo, "I can't."

"You mean you won't."

"Yes and no. Even though the space where she resides is in the Void, it is boat that drifts away the more you attempt to reach for it." the Void explained slowly and blinked. "That, and the fact that you might get trapped there, which would bring this story to a rather anticlimactic halt."

Corvo growled lowly in his throat, twisting away from the god and stalking away.

"It was surprising, how you dealt with Sokolov." the Outsider began, watching as Corvo started pacing around the room like a caged beast. "In most worlds, you would knock him out the moment you had the chance. Other times, you'd listen to his bargains until they turned into begs for his life. There is one, where only ashes remained of your enemies, you would take your time in fishing what you needed from him, before finally cutting his neck open and leaving him on the table for all to see."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You were an avenging angel, bathing in their blood even after you placed the last Kaldwin on the throne." Smugness twitched the corners of pale lips, the Outsider crossed his arms and leaned forward. Corvo could feel the chill the god always brought. "She learnt how to make others fear, from you."

"That's not going to happen."

"I know," the deity pulled away, wearing a thoughtful look, "which is why I was surprised. You should be boring, so full of anger and regrets, blind to all. How much longer you will shine, a candle in this city of muck."

"Poetic." the witch responded dryly and stepped away, ignoring how the Outsider simply drifted closer.

"...Sometimes, I wonder if you would never go out." The murmur had a ring of hesitation, of being not quite sure. Perhaps even a little unnerved by it, Corvo mused briefly. "It is inevitable, like all mortals do. They are born, burn bright and maybe bright enough for me to notice, then out into a predictable shadow that repeats its actions until death stops them. Granny Rags is a fine example."

"She's obsessed with you," Corvo frowned in a mix of wariness and confusion.

"Indeed she does, until it consumed her. Her devotion is common as it is deadly, most of the people who whispered my name suffered for it, but she is not like them."

"Glad I'm not her."

"As I am, although I would appreciate your worship, should you offer it." A low laugh bubbled from the Outsider's lips at the disgruntled look the other wore, the air around them seemingly rumbling in the god's amusement. "It could be fun."

"Why yes, going insane with burning passion for a whale disguised as a man would be fun. I rather not ever think about this again, if it's all the same for you." Not that he had anything against Granny. No, she was more of the aunt who would invite you to her house filled with creepy dolls and weird paintings for tea, and stare at you throughout the whole ordeal if you didn't take at least one biscuits. She was nice, but creepy beyond him. "Is the shrine bedroom not enough?"

The deity laughed again, as if having read his mind. "It's better than what most people see her as." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Perhaps you are like Daud."

" _I am nothing like him_." the witch hissed, tensing up and on the verge of drawing his blade by instinct. The back of his neck ached like an open wound frayed by needles, despite it probably being nothing more than a bruise.

"Both of you drag yourselves in pools of blood, weighted down by regrets and what-ifs. It would certainly be a show to pit you two in a fight, to see who would last longer." Lips curled back to reveal bleached teeth, too sharp while inky eyes twinkled with mirth. "Daud has lost my interest, burning out when he made the decision to use my gift for coin. I supposed it was the only life he could see himself leading, every dream being too impossible and unreal for someone like him," Too sharp, his neck hurt as the Outsider stared him down. "While you couldn't see a life outside the two people you failed to protect."

Without thinking, Corvo shoved the being away with an uncontrollable snarl. Surprisingly, his hands met what felt human enough, firm and soft and missing its warmth. The Outsider moved back by only a step, clearing humoring him as the smile grew wider. "I am nothing like him." He repeated.

"I know your kind. Seen empires and kingdoms rise and fall into the ocean, listening to the pleads for my help when the water came. You are not the first to follow this path, be to so daring and reckless to receive my attention, but perhaps the last to hold it so in such a manner. You are special."

"And you're an arrogant, infuriating bastard with too much time to waste." Corvo retorted and turned away to the balcony, wishing for air that didn't smell of the sea and Void. He would leave, but had a feeling that the action would anger the god.

A low chuckle, cold breath against the shell of his ear. He shifted away, and thankfully the Outsider didn't follow. "Is that what you think?"

"Does it matter." Corvo splat, his attention abruptly diverted to the rooftops. There was movement, but too quick for a clear look.

"Does it?" A smirk clipped the question.

"No."

"So blunt." said the deity, amusement curling his words.

He was about to snort, another dry remark on his tongue when his hair was brushed away to reveal his neck. He tensed as a hand settled on the bruise, feeling like ice on bare skin burning into him but then numbed away the pain moments later. Hissing, the witch reached up to touch the bruise—to feel if the skin was still there—and was not all that surprised when neither ache nor blood followed when he pulled away, "better blunt than speaking in rhyme."

"I do not like damaging what's mine."

"You broke Granny."

"She broke herself."

"For you."

"Hm." The human-shaped being's head shifted to the side, to the balcony and Corvo followed his gaze. "Seems like we have an audience."

Two figures barely visible in dark vision at the edge of the rooftops, but from where they stood, the assassins should only be able to see their lower halves. Must be an odd sight they must be, considering the fact that the Outsider was floating and wisps of shadows surrounded them.

"No, they can't see me." Right, of course they wouldn't be able to.

"So they all saw was me," Corvo stepped away from the balcony, a good sniper would be able to shoot him in seconds. "Just awkwardly standing here."

"Yes."

"Amazing, and you accused _me_ of being blunt."

"That you are, yet as sharp as razor." The Outsider began to fade, the shades growing and soaking up space around.

"Wait," the witch called out and was mildly surprised when the deity did, "Emily. Tell her-"

"I will. In the meantime," the being's form dissipated like smoke, his smile being the last to go like a Cheshire cat, "on the show, Corvo."

Heartbeats passed, the ringing of silence was loud in his ears as sound filled the ruined apartment again. The rats peeked out from their holes, chipping and scratching while the wind picked up and quiet riverbank's washing grew in volume. All along Corvo stared up at the assassins, waiting for the world to return back to normal.

He reached out to the closest one with Possession, seeking for thoughts or anything to anchor a hold on them. It was foggy, and the witch felt the person yank away deeper into the fog. Interesting, Corvo mused. Influencing them would not be easy, but not impossible. The problem was time, to chip away at the wall and crack them open.

A good time to strike, huh.

The witch sat by the table without looking away from the two yellow shapes. He drew the folding sword and bone knife, picking up a whetstone to sharpen them while his rats moved to his feet and under the chair.

Luckily for them, he had time to burn.

 

* * *

 

Daud's men would change every hours and always came in pairs, one on the edge of the roofs while the other was stationed further down. A good strategy, Corvo supposed, one of them would be able to have a head start should he go after them. Like what Granny said, they didn't attempt to attack him. Even so, the watching was unnerving. He was right about needing time, hours had passed and now all he could drag out were bits of emotions; fear and sometimes anger from some of them, but always the stomach gnawing tension that screamed for them to flee everything he stepped into view and looked up at them.

A little after sunset, Samuel arrived in ten minutes at the call of his flare gun. The assassins did nothing when he boarded the Amaranth, their heads following the boat's movement. If the boatman had followed Corvo's gaze and noticed them, he didn't say anything.

"So, did you find out who lives here?" Samuel asked lowly as they maneuvered further down the river, the Flooded District growing smaller in distance.

"I have suspicions."

"With respect, sir Corvo, but do you really want to go there?" the sailor frowned in concern, locking eyes with the other, "The Estate District is a nest of vipers, plus with the coming Boyle party, there's sure to be an increase in guards. I wouldn't be surprised if it's an ambush."

"I know, I just need to check something." The information and why they fastened an expensive harness on the raven, were important questions—and why the bird was getting fat, which wasn't as important—as absurd as it sounded but Corvo didn't say this, opting for nudging Samuel's shoulder when he saw something in the distance. "There's a boat heading this way, eleven 'o clock."

"River patrol," Samuel frowned and pushed the steering lever to the next level, the boat speeding up and slowing to a stop behind some rocks. They waited and listened to the engine rumbling a minute later. "How long will you need?"

"Two hours at most, it shouldn't take much. If I don't make it, it means you were right and that I'm stuck."

Huffing, the older man tugged his scarf tighter around his neck. "I'm being serious, Corvo."

"I had worse." Samuel glared, unconvinced but started up the boat when the danger had left. "I'll be out by the next day, don't worry."

They didn't speak until the boat entered the Estate District, going past the Boyle household. "There's a door leading into their basement by the sewers, although I'd advise you to be cautious while opening the sewer gates." the boatman said with a shrug, gesturing to where a set of bars blocked the passage under the Boyle Mansion. "Plenty of the hagfish."

"Anything significant on the other side?" Corvo eyed the tall buildings on the other side of the district. No lights, windows boarded up and rotting, one of the many abandoned houses.

"Across the bridge should be the old Moray house. Rumor has it that Lord Moray died, nothing was left of him. His wife simply disappeared a day later."

The boatman smoothly turned off the engine, letting the Amaranth drift down the Serpentine over to an underpass to hide him from searching eyes that might have heard them.

"The address should be a building three blocks down, I can't get any closer due to the guard block stationed right in front. I asked a boatman who ferries servants in and out here, he says that the house you're looking for has red banners and another guard station directly in front. Whoever they are, they've got coin. I will wait here."

"I really need to steal a clock or something later." The witch mumbled to himself, stepping off the boat and onto stone. He paused and glanced back at Samuel. "What do you do if you get caught?"

"I tell them that I'm just an old man fishing."

"In the Estate District?"

"Maybe, would you rather I wait at the end?"

Corvo frowned but nodded in agreement. "Do you even have a rod?"

"I'll tell them that the hagfish took it."

"Does that even work?"

"Sometimes."

Night was falling fast, the only people on the streets were servants heading home or the City Watch. Corvo slipped out his pistol and his pouch of ammo, handing it to Samuel. "Just in case."

He then made his way up to the rooftops as soon as he could, glancing back to see the Amaranth sail away. On the bright side, there were plenty of balconies and ledges on these aristocrat houses, deserted or not to climb. However, majority of their roofs were in steep angles and some of the houses were greatly spaced apart. After nearly slipping once, Corvo found a path between carefully placed steps and sprinting transverses. The building was visible even from this distance, hanging banners like dark stripes and streetlights revealing the silhouettes of armed men patrolling around. When he leap onto the next roof safely, the better view helped him realize that some of the men were carrying bulky objects on their chest and a couple with sleek hounds following behind.

Great, Overseers.

Grimacing, the witch eyed the venue. Overseers were entering in and leaving by the main door, taking the building and the yard outside while City Watch had the outskirts and streets. He mused on the idea how getting the Watch and Abbey to fight amongst themselves and clear each other out - not much effort or time needed to be put in between these two factors - but a light going out caught Corvo's eye above to the fourth story and a balcony.

Now close enough to Blink right up to the building, Dark Vision showed glimpses of at least a dozen of Overseers on the first and second floors, the numbers decreasing on the third and only a handful on the fourth and top floor. He wasn't sure if it was an Abbey base, or if the owner was just really zealous to their teachings, but this was his best bet. Corvo straightened up and took a few steps back, before sprinting off the roof. Briefly, he entertained the thought of not Blinking in time or failing to grab the ledge correctly, falling to his death from this height.

It certainly be an anticlimactic end for him.

Shoving aside the morbid humor, the Lord Protector clamored up the balcony's metal railings, ignoring its cold bite in his palms.The balcony doors swung open soundlessly and he slipped into the room like a shadow, his crossbow in hand. With a luscious queen-sized bed at the side, thick covers and curtains and well furnished, Corvo could only assume it was a noble's bedroom.

Across him, a slim line of light spilled out from a nearly closed door, but no sound came from there. Frowning, he took a swift look with the other vision, multiple green objects scattered around in the dimly lit room flashing, the shape of a man in the other room while many others walked in the floors below, before movement made him shift back towards the balcony. Shuffling and softly panting, a hound nudged at the door and padded—no, limped—over towards the bed. Its left foreleg was missing, along with the usual line of sight from its right eye. The dog paused, head moving side to side and sniffing the air as it observed the dark room.

Lips in a tight line, Corvo took aim at the dog with a sleep dart. Usually he would have to kill them or lead them into a room and locking the door behind, for they tended to be far more alert than their human companions. At the moment, however, he didn't feel like wasting time on wrestling one canine down to stab it, and he had found a few spare sleep darts in an abandoned house outside.

The click of the crossbow locking into place instantly had the hound's attention, ears pointed at him and registering his presence. It opened its maw, growling lowly and increasing with each heartbeat but didn't pounce yet. In fact, it seemed to be deciding if Corvo was aggressive or not.

Odd. He wondered if the Abbey taught its hounds to only attack when accompanied by an Overseer, but considering he had seen its kin lash out even without being commanded in the past, probably not. Either way, Corvo didn't need to shoot it - a sharp whistle made both him and the hound jerk to attention.

"Heel, girl." Martin said quietly as the dog trotted over to him, murmuring a praise when she immediately sat and turned to Corvo with a raised brow. "Good evening, Corvo."

The witch cautiously nodded in greeting, watching the other with suspicious. While the Loyalist needed his help, Corvo knew better than to assume that they wouldn't refrain from spending his usefulness on doing more dirty work. What the new High Overseer had planned, he didn't want to know unless it benefited him.

"While I expected you here, I didn't think it would happen this way." remarked Martin with a knowing smirk, reaching down to ruffle the space between the hound's ears. "Took you long enough."

"You could have just left a message."

"I did," The older man began to walk back out, leaving Corvo to follow. It appeared to be like any other noble house's living room, no guards or traps. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could see. Martin gestured to a desk where paperwork, books and a plate of fruits sat. "Your bird saw to it."

The raven froze and looked up at them, halfway in the act of stabbing a pear with its beak.

Corvo glanced to the side, spotting a large dog bed and a metal perch by the fireplace and looked back to the bird on Martin's table. The guilty look was most likely imagined, for this bird did not feel such emotion and the fact that it was a bird.

"I fucking knew it." whispered the witch who stalked up to the raven, glaring as it jerked back and squawked quietly. "This was why you were getting fat."

Martin stared at them. "What."

"Nothing," Corvo growled as the bird fluttered up onto his shoulder, shooting it one more side look of outrage for its betrayal. Now he could really feel how heavy it had gotten over the past weeks. "You said you have information."

"Yes, I was getting to that." The High Overseer walked over to a cabinet, taking out a glass. "A drink?"

"I'll pass."

"It's going to be a long talk, plus a perk in becoming one of Dunwall's most powerful people allows you the pleasure of good alcohol." The older man retrieved a bottle of wine from a hidden compartment in the cabinet, but didn't take out another glass.

"Good for you."

"Serkonan white, well-aged and straight from Saggunto." Martin flipped the bottle to read the label. "Made from their finest grapes, apples and figs. Sweet and spicy, huh."

"Do you offer drinks to everyone you to talk?" Crossing his arms, the younger man watched Martin strolled back over to his work table. "Because it isn't very professional."

"It tends to make the conversation less boring, drunkards tend to talk easier. Your liver might hate you, but you'll live." said the High Overseer as he sat down, nodding to the chair across him. He chuckled upon seeing Corvo eye the hound—which had followed him to the desk and now laid down on the floor—with distrust whilst taking the offered seat. "Don't mind her. Heather's just being friendly, she always like people; and birds apparently."

"Didn't know you owned a hound." Corvo commented idly as the raven hopped off and onto the table, cawing loudly at the canine. Heather's ears perked and she sat up, sniffing and nosing at the bird. Martin had always seemed like a cat person to him.

"Had her after a month I joined the Abbey when her previous handler died. They kept her in the kennels while I was in the stocks." There was a brief look of disdain as Martin uncorked the bottles and filled his glass. "I'm not sure which is worse, the idea of her having a new handler who could be hurting her, or being kept in the cage for two weeks."

"What happened?" The Lord Protector knew they should go straight down into business but couldn't help the curiosity. "Her eye and leg."

Martin took a long sip of his drink, savoring the taste and cocking his head at the clear, gold liquid. "They sent us on a patrol to investigate a house on Tailor District, got a tip that the owner was a heretic." He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Turns out it wasn't exactly black magic but more of murder."

"Just as bad."

"I suppose. The landlady killed three babies she 'adopted', official records said it was an offering to the Outsider but I believe she was an angel maker."

"Angel maker?"

"A person, usually a woman who would be paid by a poor mother to find a home for the infant. When the mother left, the child would be murdered or sometimes sold as a slave. I assume Morley's not the only one plagued with such vermin."

"Oh," the witch breathed and picked up his glass, swirling the liquid but not really drinking. He faintly recalled his mother, telling him to play with the two daughters of the Inn master and to 'look happy'. A woman carrying a crying baby had seen them, headed into the house and left without the child. It was the first of many, most of them crying was the most vivid thing Corvo remembered. One day his mother told him that they never had to come back there again and took him to a sermon. She prayed so feverishly, and broke down in tears when an Oracle blessed her. He never really gave much thought for it, nor had ever needed to. "Then what?"

"She heard that we were coming, and knew some Hatters. They set traps around, one of them was in the front door." Martin took another sip and frowned lightly, "I didn't know. I was in the lead, opened the door and stepped in; next thing I knew, I was on the ground and Heather was wailing on top of me, bleeding with a piece of metal in her eye."

"Grenade traps, the Hatter gang's well-known for them." Corvo winced in sympathy, glancing at Heather in a new light. The raven had fluttered down to sit in the space between the hound's paws, trying to groom Heather's short fur. "I'm surprised they didn't put her down."

"They wanted to, dogs like her would be too much trouble to care, so I managed to pulled some strings. Had her taken cared of; nobody really gives an old veteran dog much thought."

"I see." Below, the hound sneezed abruptly, startling the smaller creature in squawking. Heather quickly nuzzled and bumped the raven with her snout, flopping her head back down when the other quietened. "She's a good dog."

"I know." A genuine smile lit Martin's face and leaned back, making a loud click with his tongue. Heather looked up at him attentively, sitting up and waiting. "Go." he told the dog, then said to Corvo, "Feel free to pet her, Heather won't bite; although she'll likely target you if she knows you'll shower her with attention."

Heather sniffed Corvo's offered hand, before he gently stroked her head and ears. Her tail started wagging and she let out a small excited bark, nudging his knee when he pulled away with a frown. "I heard that if they fail a test if they're too friendly."

"They let it slide after discovering that she instantly aimed for a man's throat on command, and stopped on the next."

"Hmm."

"What about the bird?"

"Hm?"

"Does it have a name? It's obviously yours."

Shrugging, Corvo crossed his arms with a shake of the head. "I'm not the owner, I just... feed it and it carries messages."

The Morley man pursed his lips thoughtfully, refilling his cup. "But how did you teach it to actually send the letter? I knew a scholar who tried to train ravens, but it failed. Unlike pigeons, they don't actually return to the nest or food source, thus not delivering the message."

"Black magic."

"Of course." Agreed Martin with a barest hint of eye-rolling. "I'm calling him Lad."

Corvo glanced at the bird, which had now climbed up the table and peaking at the wine bottle. "It's a girl."

"Lassie," the High Overseer didn't skip a beat, moving the raven's object of interest away from the dangers of being tipped over. "You know, I saw a traveling merchant who taught a crow to speak - "

"No."

"But I'm not even - "

"I wake up to the bird screeching in my ear half the time, so no."

"Too late."

The Lord Protector looked horrified, glancing at the raven and back at Martin. "What have you done."

"You might hear a really low hello, or maybe one of the Seven Strictures from it. A few Overseers have taken a liking to Lassie and are currently trying to teach her."

"Outsider's eyes."

Martin took another sip and cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Sighing heavily, Corvo shoved the thought of the bird's relentless chatter aside for business. "Nevermind that. What was so important that you gave your address?"

"A number of things, but let's start with Lady Boyle." Martin leaned forward, eyes intent and bright despite how little was left in his cup. "Her party is in three days."

"I know. Havelock reminded me."

"There is a chance that the Lord Regent might have it postponed, fearing for her safety. He is insisting that she hosts it in the Palace where they would focus all security until her coronation is complete. Losing the Royal Physician dealt a heavy blow to his support, considering most of the Watch only stick around for elixirs and coin."

"I know the Palace."

"Yes, I don't doubt your knowledge of its interior but the amount of guards and the Lord Regent's... renovation during your time away might be problematic. Due to this, I have been using my position as High Overseer to persuade the Boyles not to. Her sisters find great symbolism in having her final party at home, like a farewell to nobility to make way for royalty."

The witch nodded slowly, holding back a frown. The idea of the Kaldwin flags that used to hang from the Palace grounds being torn down for another was... hurting. Seeing the striking red and black eagle banners was one thing, but a whole new name on the throne was different.

"While I do have faith in my talking skills, be prepared if I fail. Hiram Burrows has been suspicious of my sudden rise to power, but he thinks that it's better than Campbell himself. The amount of secrets in his black book is overwhelming, ranging from blackmail to plans to overthrow the Lord Regent when things went downhill."

"He was going to betray the bastard?"

"If necessary, yes. Anyway I will try to decrease the amount of Overseers on my part when possible, but don't count on it."

"Is that all?"

"Speaking of betrayal; Campbell's journal had information regarding the late Empress's assassination." The High Overseer's lips dipped downwards when Corvo perked up. "Keyword: had. All I have is a label with her name since most of the pages were torn out. I deciphered those that weren't: complaints on the plague and how the Lord Regent shouldn't had immediately jailed you, because your confusion would had been useful for them."

Corvo's head was downcast, curtain of hair hiding his expression. Martin could see the gears in his head turn and click, taking in this information and burying it in coal. He saw anger in Corvo's tense shoulders, the slight tremble of his tight fists and felt a stab of worry for him and his own wellbeing. Hoarding that kind of hate was bad for the soul, Martin knew from experience and while he also knew that Corvo's rage was not directed to him, it didn't mean the fire would not spread.

Still, the many uses of a flame was worthy. Fire was a good servant, but a terrible master, although the High Overseer did not intend to control the other. No, his plans would benefit the both of them. If he played his cards right, he would borrow the fire's heat while staying safe from it.

"While on this subject of betrayal, I have something to your attention." Martin cleared his throat, and didn't flinch when Corvo's head snapped up, still wearing a murderous expression. The cup was calmly refilled, his third drink and counting. "Havelock is planning to get rid of you."

The former Lord Protector blinked, the dark look softening and was replaced with one of dull fatigue. "Oh."

"You're not surprised."

"I read his journal."

"Ah, me too." Corvo raised a brow and opened his mouth to question, the other cut him off, "He doesn't like how uneasy you make him."

"I get the job done."

"While telling him that you'll get it done on your own time. The Admiral is used to ordering and having that order fulfilled immediately. He's not one for patience or listening--a downside of him leading I'll admit."

"Why are you telling me this?" The witch crossed his arms, voice low and slow. "This counts as you playing backstabber."

"I see myself as more of a... selective supporter with fluctuating views. You already suspected him, I am just confirming your suspicions."

"So kind of you, yet you don't strike me as the charitable type."

"I like to surprise people."

The younger glared, voice low and dangerous. "What do you gain from this."

"Your favor," Martin said it like stating the obvious, much like how the colour of the sky was ever changing, but mostly blue. Corvo didn't appreciate the tone, but it did ease his distrust for Martin's games by the slightest. "I want your assistance, not because someone commanded you to, or that you've a debt to pay. If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you want the good side of someone as capable as yourself?"

"You want to use me."

"I want to help you, while helping myself, Corvo." The High Overseer leaned back in his seat, head tilting to the side with a smirk. "Times are hard, we need all the help we can get. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Simple enough, yes?"

"And when you don't need me anymore, you will betray me, yes?"

"You could kill me right here, and I could do nothing to stop it." Said the older man, his hands in a spreading gesture. "This house is filled with Overseers and City Watch outside, but by the time they run in through that door, you would be out the window and me with my throat slit. I rather not make an enemy out of you."

Corvo was unsatisfied with the reply, but did see the logic in it. His voice was quiet that Martin had to strain to listen, "...what of the assassin, Daud?"

"Well, depends whose telling the tale. Not much of him was written besides a few accounts and witnesses, while more are in rumors and stories of personally meeting. I knew a man who boasted that he socked the Knife of Dunwall before in a bar brawl, and lived to tell the tale."

"Surely the Abbey has something on them."

"Plenty, we have a whole library choke full of stories on heretics. There is one entry on an attack in the Flooded District, the Abbey had received an anonymous tip that Daud and his 'whalers' had a base in the Chamber of commerce. Two squads were sent, one to scout ahead and set up while another to support. The plan was to meet at an appointed venue, storm in together and clear the area. However, a report suggested that the first group didn't wait and launched the attack anyway. That was all we know, since none of them came back nor did we find any witnesses."

"Campbell didn't investigate?"

"Not that I know, he was probably busy worrying about the Lord Regent." Draining his glass, the older man carefully timed his words, "If you're going after Daud, now's a good opportunity. His defenses are weak, numbers lessened."

Silence fell on them, draping over their shoulders like a hush of curtains. By their feet, Heather gave a gruff bark and trotted over to the fireplace, the bird perched on her back as they settled near the warmth. Martin finished the last of his wine, on the act of refilling it when Corvo snatched away both the bottle and the cup, with a mumble. "Give me that."

The Morley man snorted in amusement and got up to find a replacement for his stolen drink. "You could had just asked, you know."

His reply was a flip of a finger and a glare over the glass's rim, Martin simply laughed.

 

* * *

 

"Out of all the things I regret in my life, which is more than I can count, this is in my top ten. And it's not even five minutes."

"Muph." Corvo said into the pillow, turning away from him to dive deeper into the lush bed sheets.

Martin had stopped panicking a minute ago to breathe, because air was essential to think and thinking was required to make sense of foggy memories. At the moment, he poured himself a glass of water from the jug he always kept nearby.

They were drinking, wine was switched for something stronger—either absinthe or brandy if he remembered correctly—and were now in his bed. He was shirtless; his coat was missing and he was wearing a spare trousers over his actual pants. That and two belts, one strapped around his forehead and another, probably Corvo's, was loosely hooked on his elbow. Corvo had stolen the covers to turn himself into a human plush roll, so Martin couldn't tell if he was clothed or not.

He also recalled singing. That is, if you could call the drunken slurs half shouted into the night 'singing'.

"What did we do?"

Growling, Corvo reached out and blindly groped around. His hand found a spare pillow, which was used to smash Martin's face. "Shh."

Martin didn't seem to care, continuing despite his question muffled. "Mhat 'ave me mone?"

The pillow was limp, before Corvo's hand flopped onto it gently; then slowly increasing pressure in an attempt to smother the other.

Before any real damage could be done though, the older man simply tugged the pillow down and sat up.

"It's okay, I can work with this. At least it's not walking into a pile of naked men." The High Overseer reassured himself, racking a hand through his bed hair. That was in the past and still burnt into his mind, much to his dismay. He glanced over to at the other.

"Hey. Wake up."

Corvo made a noise and turned away, ignoring him.

"Get up." A muffled growl came from the pillow and Martin sighed, nudging the other. "Come on, I'm late on my routine and a maid's going to come in later."

Nothing.

"Someone's going to see you. In my bed." If the situation was different and hangover free, Martin would had found this extremely amusing. Well, he did. A little. For now however, he settled frowned at the human-shaped lump, "As a blanket roll."

A low grunt that sounded a lot like 'no' if he heard right.

"There's breakfast in," he glanced at the clock on his bedside, "ten minutes so get up."

The promise of food or implication that someone was indeed scheduled to enter had Corvo slowly stirring, a narrowed eye peeking out of the covers. "Do you wish to die."

"From old age, happy and wealthy; sure." the older man said drily, tugging at the blanket and frowning when the soft material was tugged back. Well, somebody's grumpy and clingy in mornings. "Up, Corvo."

"Outsider's eyes." Wow, Martin never thought he could hear so much hate concentrated in two simple words.

The single eye fell shut before the owner slowly shifted to sit up. Corvo squinted at the world and then at Martin, blinking away the haze and eyeing him with as much caution allowed by the hangover. "Is that my belt?"

Of course, the belt is the first thing he noticed and not the fact that they were sharing a bed. Martin poured himself another glass, then refilled it and handed it to Corvo. "Yes?"

"Why is it on your arm?" Corvo awkwardly downed the glass, passing it back.

"I honestly don't know, it was just there."

"Oh." Breathed the younger man as he sleepily nodded, gazing at the blanket wrapped around him. After wiggling an arm free, Corvo froze at the sight of a vivid red sleeve of the High Overseer's coat on said limb. The confusion, growing awake and frightened the longer he stared was visible in the witch's widening eyes. "What."

"Outsider's eyes, how much did we drink." Martin rubbed his temples, ignoring how Corvo ripped his gaze away from his arm to sweep around the room rapidly, then the borderline worrying noise made while he attempted to escape his cocoon of fluff.

"I drank more." came the helpful answer.

The older man sighed loudly, almost missing the light knocking from the room outside. He glanced at the clock again, ten minutes late and counting. With another sigh and resisting the urge to just flop back down, Martin shifted to sit by the edge of the bed.

"Do you do that often?"

"Do what?"

"Steal all the covers to become a cushion roll."

A defensive glare from the witch, Martin could have sworn the other's cheeks coloured slightly before his observations were interrupted by a flying pillow aimed for his face.

"At least I don't... sleep talk," Corvo snarled and paused, brows furrowed while the other grunt from the impact, "Yeah. I don't sleep talk. Do you even know what you were saying last night?"

"I was asleep, Corvo."

"You were spouting factual nonsense. Like water freezes at zero degrees Celsius."

"I don't see what's wrong with that."

"'The first snowstorm in Dunwall was never.'"

"Ah. Proof that my sass carries on, even in slumber."

"You stopped for a while then said: 'Way too cold for my nipples.' before trying to...hug me."

Martin didn’t even flinch or hesitate. "And whose fault is it for stealing all the covers, thus making me cold?"

"Nobody asked you to take off your shirt, Overseer."

"We were drunk, you might have."

"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't ask you to take it off, sober or not."

"And how were you even awake during then?"

"You almost kicked me off."

"Hm."

They sat there in silence, listening to the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock from the living room and a distant birdsong somewhere outside. Another set of three knocks, polite and still waiting to be answered. Neatly setting down the pillow, Martin spared the other a glance. "I don't sleep talk often."

"I don't at all."

"My mother told me that I only do it when I'm comfortable. And the last episode was a long time ago."

Another dry remark waited on Corvo's tongue but the witch swallowed it back, hearing the quiet, heaviness in Martin's statement. "I see."

"...At least I don't turn into a human bedroll."

Corvo's last pillow, technically Martin's, went flying. Unfortunately, the target was awake and caught it with a hand instead of his face.

"I have work to do," the High Overseer said with the beginning of a playing smile, catching the offending feather filled square. He tossed it back and pushed off, nearly stepping on Heather in the process; who was still snoring away half hidden under the bed. "Bathroom's across us, right outside. Watch your feet."

His answer was an unhappy noise, but a glance ensured Martin that Corvo wasn’t probably going back to sleep. He didn't dwell, tugging off the extra pants and belts and placed them on the table.

“This conversation is never leaving this room.”

Martin glanced back to see that the other had made an effort to lift his head high enough to avoid speaking into the covers, lifting both his bows at the sight. Corvo, having no more pillows to throw, settled for glaring threatening.

“Agreed.” He threw over his shoulder and left to answer the door.

It felt weird, waking up and not hearing the quiet chatter of rats or the wind whistling through broken walls. The witch was glad that he no longer expected waking to shouting guards and his cell door sliding open, yet saddened at the knowledge that no morning would ever start with anything before Cold—

No. He didn't want to think of Coldridge. The witch rubbed his face roughly with both hands, sighing through his nose. He also didn't want to think of last night or why he was in this bed. Shoving the thoughts aside, Corvo pulled free from the covers and frowned. He was wearing the High Overseer's coat, the red short coat missing the usual straps and belt, undergarments and nothing else.

His eyes widened, what happened to his own coat.

There wasn't much left from his old life, just bits and pieces. The coat was one of them, everything else was gone, burnt and ruined if he knew the guards well.

Heather woke with a start when his foot brushed her flank, the old she-dog settling back down when the former Lord Protector muttered an apology and stumbled out of the half-opened door, ignoring the hammering pain of the hangover.

Martin was walking out of the presumably mentioned bathroom, hair damp and dressed in a simple unbuttoned shirt. Numerous white lines, some fading and thin while others a dull healed red decorated the other man's chest. A long ripped scar started on Martin's left collarbone and stopped by his right hip, an odd jagged crescent sat above his belly button and multiple bullet wounds sat on the flesh, standing out from the pale lines. When the witch looked up, Martin simply looked back squarely, revealing no discomfort or irritation for being gaze upon. "I'll share them another time." He explained with a shrug, despite Corvo not asking. "Some of the stories are really dumb."

"I didn't ask." It just wasn't his business.

"But you thinking about how they came to be, am I right?"

"It doesn't matter." Corvo snapped, crossing his arms. "where's my coat?"

"Your coat?" Frowning lightly at the hard look the other shot him, Martin glanced around the room. A pouch of spring-razors and another to carry grenades by the fireplace, a boot - probably his own - and a shirt - his too - hanging over the desk. "The maid came in to take the laundry last night, she will be bringing them up later."

"So she knows." Corvo's eyes narrowed dangerously, his posture set on edge. The coat would surely be recognized, one of the reasons why he didn't wear it often. How much time did he have before she went to the guards?

"I believe we placed it at the bottom of the basket." The older man shook his head as he bent down to pick up something under the sofa. He raised a brow at the bone knife, weighting nicely in his palm before handing it out to Corvo. "Either way she won't tell, Miranda's a clever girl who knows how to keep her mouth shut."

"You mentioned someone coming up?" Asked the witch as he took back his knife.

"A maid bringing breakfast, new laundry and to clean up. Later on there will be someone coming up to give a report. Besides that, today's rather slow. For now, I suggest you go take a shower while waiting for breakfast."

"A shower?"

Martin blinked slowly. "Yes, a shower. You know, water, sweet-scent soap, more water."

"I know what a shower is, Martin."

"And it must be awhile since you had one, huh. Go on," he nudged the other gently towards the bathroom, eyeing his uniform coat. "Leave the clothes on the floor outside, I'll try and find something to fit you."

At the look of mild surprise Corvo gave him, the High Overseer responded with a roll of eyes and a huff. "What, do you want to rewear those?"

Without a word, Corvo stepped into the bathroom and the door closed behind him. Martin snorted and waited for the sound of rushing water, shaking his head, "How in the Void did I let him into my bed?" his eyes widened with realization, "Now I have to change the sheets."

The door clicked loudly and he jumped, startled eyes darting to the bathroom. A gust of hot air and the smell of flowers and sweet vanilla nearly made the older man sneeze as he turned. The door was cracked open just enough for Corvo to peek out, looking like he was wondering if it was possible to kill Martin with just by glaring furiously, "...You have nice shampoo."

Oh, so he _isn't_ going to murder him. "Use as much as you like."

A warm bundle of red entered Martin's vision, the High Overseer coat somewhat wrinkled and limp in his hands. "I heard you, asshole."

"I was being honest," Martin reasoned, his only answer was the door slamming in his face. With a shrug, he wandered away into the bedroom to find clothes. It took him about a minute or two to locate something that would fit the other's board frame, much longer debating if he should go downstairs to borrow a set of casual clothes from an underling. After nearly five minutes of brain-racking, Martin decided that Corvo would just have to deal with it.

"Hey, I'm leaving the clothes outside." He knocked on the door and got no response, only the sound of the shower water. A brief thought crossed his mind, did Corvo somehow fall down and break his neck while he was away? That would be amazing, Martin raised a brow at the door, and really fucking stupid. "Oi, are you deaf?"

Silence, maybe he actually was dead.

Well then, there went some of his plans.

"...If you're not answering, I will open this door. Don't make me come in there, witch." huffing, Martin jiggered with the doorknob. Locked, of course, but he had the key. Perhaps the water was blocking Corvo's ears, either that or he was just ignoring him in favor of heated water, which wasn't something Martin could really fault him. He himself would had done it too, hot water was a blessing to any weary soul. "I don't even care if you're nude or - "

The rush of water stopped and the lock clicked open, the door swinging open violently to reveal a dripping wet and pissed off Lord Protector. "What."

"I brought you clothes, dearie." He said in a sickly sweet tone of a house spouse with a smile. The High Overseer may or may not have gave the other man a swift once over - Corvo didn't even bother grabbing a towel, could you really blame him? - however his endearing nickname was too distracting, earning an expression of suppressed horror from Corvo so it probably didn't matter. "What, you don't like dearie?"

"It doesn't suit you." It was so many levels of wrong, not that Corvo was going to explain. Instead, he simply snatched the soft-looking material in the other's hand without looking and closed the door. A few seconds later, he recovered enough to grumble.

"Thanks."

"Your welcome, sweetheart." Martin replied lightly as he walked away, hearing knocking from the main door. The maid, right on time. "And try not to slip and break your skull."

Corvo growled in return as he deposited the clothes on the toilet seat, but did not retort. He threw the polished bathtub a last longing look before snatching one of the many fresh towels from a shelf that stored the scented bathwaters. He dried himself off, wrapping another around his hair to keep it from soaking him as he inspected the clothes.

Undergarments and pants that would have been somewhat loose on Martin fitted nicely on him, which he would accept. For a heartbeat, Corvo felt grudging gratitude to the other. It was nice honestly speaking, he was clean and shaved and that left him feeling weirdly comfortable.

It was funny and sad at the same time, how unnerving he felt when experiencing comfort once again; like waiting for a good dream to turn bad.

The witch held up the last piece of the set, the barest hint of a smile dropping from his features.

_The bastard._

"What," Corvo slammed the door open, ignoring the nips of morning chill as he stormed over to Martin's desk. The older man looked up from his papers, halfway taking a sip of coffee and crooked a brow in silent question. His reward was the offending piece of article held up to his face. "Is this."

Martin swallowed and cleared his throat gently, "It's a sweater, Corvo."

"It's a white and fluffy and the physical form of a mother's eternal hug sweater." The witch grabbed the other by the collar and leaned down to look him in the eye, voice in a low whisper colored with dead seriousness. "And you expect me to wear this."

"More or less, it was all I could find that would fit you." He set down the coffee cup, going on as Corvo revaluated his thoughts of Martin’s worth. "There's nothing wrong with looking like a baby seal."

“Then you wear it.”

“I have my coat and I’m not cold.”

Corvo glared and fisted the soft fabric, he'd rather walk around shirtless than wear this. It even smelt like Martin. "I'm not wearing it."

"Then you're going to catch a cold." Martin said nonchalantly as he picked up the sweater, folding and setting it aside. He then went back to his coffee and papers and gestured to his left. "Breakfast's on the dinner table."

"I should kill you." Corvo frowned at him before making his way to the table. Some bread with small jars containing numerous types of jam and a bowl of soup. Beside it were some fruits and a cup of coffee, small cups of cream and sugar placed next to it. The food was obvious good quality, sending a wave of resentment towards Martin. Of course somebody of his status would have good food, while the rest of Dunwall starved. With that thought, the witch chewed his meal with more harshness than required, hoarding the rest of the plate like a spiteful dragon. If Martin noticed the aggressive-defensive eating, he didn’t comment.

He idly replied to his threat instead, noting the shivers racking the other’s body.

"Over a sweater, sweetie?"

"That's just one of the reasons. Also, I'm eating all your food."

"Go ahead," the High Overseer paused and put down his pen, resting his hand in a palm. "Why are you so against it anyway?"

He waited politely for Corvo to swallowed, "I am wearing the face of Death on the streets, and you want me to look like a baby seal."

"I'm not asking you to wear it out, just until we get your clothes back."

"It makes me feel less threatening and I don't like it."

Concealing a sigh, Martin shook his head and went back to the paper. "Just wear it please."

He didn't pay much heed when Corvo got up, a flash of light from the corner of his eye. Martin sucked in a sharp breath, hiding most of his shock as the witch abruptly reappeared right beside him. Corvo took the sweater, muttering under his breath about dealing with stupid things while still hungover as he walked back to the dinner table.

Playing with fire, the older man mused, the air around him left smelling unnatural and of ozone.

"What time is it?" asked Corvo as he set down the bowl of soup, feeling warm inside and out thanks to this horrid sweater. The raven, or 'Lassie' as Martin addressed her, had flown in while he was eating and busied between stealing bites and avoiding his fingers when he removed the message from her. She had gotten bored and flew into the master bedroom, most likely to wake Heather up.

It was a hastily scrawled note from Samuel, questioning his whereabouts and why his last message was weirdly written. "And did we send Samuel a letter last night?"

"I believe I wrote to tell him that you were drunk off your ass. Half past twelve, last I checked."

Corvo glanced at the grandfather clock in the room. "It's nearly two."

"Shit."

"What are you doing?" the Lord Protector eyed the other with caution as Martin shot up from his seat, watching him hastily grab any visible articles of clothing and tossed them into the bedroom.

"You got to go, hide in the bedroom. The Watch Captain's on his way up to give a report."

Corvo shot a look at the said room, he didn't like the idea of going back in there. "Just say that you're not feeling well and tell him to leave."

"It'd be suspicious. Majority of the men here are like rabid dogs, the barest hint of a flu and they say plague if it's a means to climb the - where are you going?"

"Not the bedroom that's for sure." Corvo replied as he stepped over to the living room balcony. Fourth floor, nothing too hard, all he had to do was just aim his Blink carefully onto the closest rooftop.

A haunting, ear-piercing screech from below came and was growing louder with every second, the damn Overseer brought a music box. Flickers of magic died on his hand and the looming headache that followed the Abbey's music made his hangover return with vengeance. Alright, maybe Blinking was out of the question. Surely he could just cling onto the ledge until they were gone, right?

"Not now, Corvo. You're going to get yourself killed." Martin hissed and hurried over to him, grabbing the witch by his shoulders. "Bedroom, go."

"I rather take my chances here than be found in there." Corvo growled back and yanked away. He stole a swift glance to wear he knew the folding blade was, the music box was too loud now.

Martin followed his glance and opened his mouth to advise him against it, when a series of knocks made them both freeze. The older man snapped out of it first, using the opportunity to tug Corvo away from the balcony as he called out. "Coming!"

"Okay, it's either the bedroom or the - " the High Overseer frantically searched the room for a hiding spot, the knocking growing louder, "table. It's the room or table, choose."

Corvo’s brows rose at the second choice, voicing his confusion. "Table?"

"Table it is." Martin agreed and before Corvo could object, the man shoved him towards the desk with all his strength. The witch stumbled, whipping around to snarl an insult when his body registered the full blast of distorted music. Martin didn't waste any time and pushed the other down and under the table, mumbling loud enough to be heard over the screeching. "Sorry." Then louder towards the door, "Come in!"

The witch barely heard the door open and gritted his teeth. He covered his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sounds of grinding gears and screaming metal, unable to hear any above the Overseer's song. He didn't know how many Overseers came in as his vision darkening and twisted; only assuming that they were right in front.

The table was wide, standing on three pieces of wood than four serving legs with the front hiding him from view. Martin was sitting close to cover him; the other's legs too close for comfort.

"Good afternoon, High Overseer."

"Afternoon, gentlemen," Martin greeted back, a smile plastered audible in his voice despite the music. "Could we have that turned off? It's a bit hard to hear anything over this noise."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the Lord Regent said to keep all music boxes working until further notice." As if to enforce the sentence, the music somehow grew louder. Corvo bit back a groan of pain as the headache hammered his head, unknowingly slouching forward.

"The Lord Regent isn't here and I'm in charge, Captain Currow. You don't have to fully follow his direct orders." the witch jerked up at the name, yelping when his head hit the top of the table. He didn't pay much attention to the slight strain in Martin's tone.

"What was that?" He barely heard the other unfamiliar voice. So Currow, an Overseer and more men then. Great.

"My dog, she likes sleeping under the table." Martin replied smoothly, "Would you kindly turn that off, Windham?"

"Don't." Currow told the Windham, then back to him, "Orders are orders, sir."

"And I'm the High Overseer. Turn it off."

"And I'm just a Watch Captain. The last time I spoke to the High Overseer, I found out that he was trying to poison me. So if you would understand my caution, I'd like to follow the Lord Regent's orders."

"Fine then. The report?"

The witch couldn't concentrate on the conversation that went on forever and chewed his lip to distract him from the noise, only stopping when he could taste blood for too long. He slipped the bone knife out from his pant pocket and gripped it tightly.

He wondered if all the bone charms in the Isles would prevent the droning melody from hurting, or would they just turn cold and useless. For a hysterical moment, Corvo chuckled to himself.

Footsteps, some of the men walked out but the music still went on. Corvo dropped his head against Martin's knee, not caring enough to shrug off the hand when it gently settled his shoulder. The pounding headache felt suffocating, he just realized that he was breathing heavier and growing nauseous.

"Windham, if you value your job and boyfriend, turn that shit off right now."

The music slowed and then sputtered to a stop, the silence ringing loudly around. Taking a deep breath, the witch instinctively activated dark vision and looked behind. The Overseer was standing a few feet away, the cursed bulky equipment on his chest now unmoving and dead. Walking down the stairs to the lower floors were three men, who he assumed to be Currow and his men. That was all he saw before Corvo's eyes watered and burned, forcing him to blink away the otherworldly sight and close them.

"Thank you," Martin sighed in relief, but did not relax in the other man's presence. He was more concern with Corvo's unresponsiveness than being caught. If anything, the older man would simply spin up a story.

"My apologies, High Overseer." Windham said quietly, shifting on his feet. Martin could see the other's nervousness. If he remembered correctly, the man really cared for his lover. "You will still consider my request, yes?"

"I will. Keep up the good work and you'll be moving up the ranks in no time. Anything else?"

"No, thank you, sir."

He wore a benevolent smile and waited as the man exited, until the footsteps trailed away, before leaning down. "You alright down there?"

"I'm still breathing and able to answer you, what do you think?"

The High Overseer snorted and shifted his chair away so that the other could leave, frowning when he spotted the trail of red under Corvo's upper lip. "I think bad enough that your nose starts bleeding."

Corvo slowly stood and accepted the handkerchief without a word. Martin nudged him to a walk, herding him to the bathroom and stopped by the door. Washing off the worst of the blood, Corvo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned at a man with shadows under his eyes slumped over the sink. Sighing, he closed his eyes and gently rested his forehead against the glass. "So, Currow."

"Yes, he was recently assigned to work here after the Regent gave this house. The guy's still wary from the incident with Campbell, as you could hear."

"Does Callista know?"

"Not yet." A knock came from outside and the witch heard Martin shuffle away to answer it. He listened to the older man and a soft female voice, jumping slightly when something cold and wet poked his ankle.

Heather looked up at him after she nosed his leg again, tail wagging when Corvo reached down to scratch her chin. "Hello, Heather."

She barked in response, making him cringe at the echo resounding in the bathroom. He flopped the hand onto her face, Heather trying to shift away and lick his hand. "No, bad dog."

"The clothes are here, I'm leaving your things outside." Martin poked his head back in, a bundle of royal blue folded neatly in his arms and blinked at the sight of them, "Heather, out. Give the man his privacy."

The hound bounced over to her owner, panting loudly but did not bark as she trotted out. Martin gave him the bundle and followed her.

"I should go." Corvo stated when he stepped out, properly dressed and picked up his gear on the chair by the door. Belt, pouches, crossbow and pistol but no sword.

"You should." the High Overseer agreed from behind his desk, looking somewhat annoyed, but did not prompt otherwise. The folding blade sat at the edge of the table, safely sheathed and locked. Corvo walked over to retrieve the weapon, checking a glimpse of the paper Martin was working on.

"Permission to investigate disappearance in the Flooded District?" The witch read out loud, eyeing the large bold letters of what seemed to be a petition. A number of signatures were at the bottom and a long empty line yet to be signed.

"The Abbey knew however at that time, Campbell was against wasting anymore men on another suicide mission."

"You said that Daud's open to attacks now."

"For someone like you. I'd love to take this opportunity, but unfortunately we're out of music boxes at the moment. Majority of it was used for the surge and the workshops are closed due to rat infestation."

"Give me a warning before you launch an attack," Corvo glanced down when something brushed his leg, snorting softly in amusement as Heather peeked up at him from under the table.

"I'll keep that in mind. Also, I got Lassie to send a message to Samuel. If the bird did her job right, he should be waiting by the underpass.”

Corvo grunted as he flipped the sword, inspecting the blade as it slid out smoothly before putting it away. “I could always go by the sewers, you know.”

“And waste my efforts in making you smell like something _not_ from the sewer? No, I am a gentleman. Samuel’s waiting. If he isn’t, at least take the roofs then.”

“Thanks for the food.” the witch mumbled while walking over to the balcony, hopping over the railing without a sound.

“Good luck.” Martin still replied regardless of it being heard, watching the blue figure disappearing and further away with every reappearance.

 

* * *

 

He was in the kitchen, looking through the reminding bottles of alcohol—wondering which one could be thrown away—when a loud crash sounded from above. The rats were there first, a bristling hissing circle around the intruder and leaping at them. There was so much anger in this human, directed at him as time slowed to a stop. The witch stepped over his rats, walking behind the assassin and cocking his head. Rage, cracks in the heart filled with the want for revenge. Frowning, Corvo snagged the intruder around the neck.

Corvo carelessly dropped the body when it stopped twitching, kicking the assassin's fallen sword aside and crouching over them. He turned to the rats, "What did he want?"

 _"The one you turned into pretty charms,"_   they whispered amongst themselves, discussing on an answer before the biggest rat spoke up, _"that was his brother."_

He pulled the mask off the assassin, a blonde man in his late twenties who looked older than he should. An idea formed in his head. "I see."

_"They only had each other, living on the edge of their teeth before Daud found them. He cried his heart out when he heard that his big brother was killed. They found the corpse sliced open, bones missing and traced the blood to us."_

"He wants revenge." Snorted Corvo as he set the factory mask on the desk. Not that he could blame him, considering his own situation. The rats shifted restlessly around them as Corvo nudged the assassin onto his back with a foot.

_"Can we eat him?"_

Corvo gave an uncommitted grunt, weighing the pros and cons of his plan. Risky, but if it worked…

Glancing to the window, the witch narrowed his eyes at the figure on the rooftops. The remaining assassin flailed and reeled back, Blinking away for base.

_"Can we eat that one then?"_

"If you can catch him." The swarm scattered when the words left his mouth, he wondered how long it would take before they caught up. Maybe fifteen minutes if the assassin found a sturdy table to stand on. Heaving the unconscious man up, Corvo stepped out to the balcony and Blinked.

 

* * *

 

The man hovered over the desk, palms flat out on a map of Dunwall and fingers drumming. Circles of red and black lines reaching and intertwining. To someone else, it would appear as a mess but it served as a network to him. Big figures were disappearing; something not hard to miss considering how they affected the Empire. The Abbey dropping one leader and picking up another was bound to happen eventually, the Pendleton brothers were traitors to Burrows—the cowering bastard— after the incident thus would have been jailed or removed as well; but the Royal Physician disappearing?

The Overseers didn’t choose to drop Campbell like hot coal. It was a known fact that the man had dirt on everyone under him so nobody would have dared to use the brand against him, but gladly use the Abbey’s rules to be rid of him.

The twins had fled the city, using coin and wit to leave before the Lord Regent turned his attention to them, yet never stepped off their ship. Only sighting of an old ship that came too close and a problem in their engines were mentioned, but nothing else significant.

Sokolov had his lab and toys on; walls of light and arc pylons still activated when the men finally noticed. His men had intercepted a messenger and stolen a copy of the report: shared psychosis amongst some on duty, blanks in memory and missing belongings such as coin, potions and ammo. No signs of struggle, only the body of a woman upstairs; a test subject who died from a broken neck instead of plague. A merciful death, if he was honest.

Beside the map was one of the many letters Burrows had sent, ranging from threats if the fault was in his men, and to pleads for his assistance to stop these events. While he wasn’t as paranoid as the coward, he could see the link.

Someone was doing this, someone dangerous enough to take out these men in such a short amount of time and he didn’t know who.

Too dangerous, but even so, Daud had no intention of taking Burrow’s newest offer to hunt down this killer. He had kept his hands clean of blood since…since.

Not even when Billie revealed her betrayal and gave him her sword, and he intended to keep it that way.

Quiet breathing made him glance to the right, over his shoulder at a whaler. Daud hadn’t noticed him come in, caught up in his debate. “What is it?”

The whaler simply looked at him and said nothing, standing by the open window that served as a way to the other building. Daud eyed the other; Arden if he was judging the stance and frame correctly, one of few who could not receive his Mark, but just as capable as the other assassins. The Tyvian man often found silence as a better response; Daud didn’t bother with it so long as he did his job and remained loyal.

“Fine,” the master assassin turned back to the map, “Could use the company.”

What concerned him now, besides Burrow’s plan to rush the construction on King Sparrow, was the throne. Noble families were gathering, courts auguring who take charge of what and where. The obvious winner was Burrow’s mistress, although the decision did not sit well with everyone. Contracts and jobs came in constantly; Daud rejected them all, but allowed his men to choose on the condition that they wouldn’t drag him in. Coin was something they wanted, not needed but he was weight down with more than just simple metal.

Thomas wrapped into the room, bowing politely. “We have news on Slackjaw.”

“Go on.”

“We have confirmed that the poison that has been affecting the Watch’s water is indeed from him. As far as we know, the person he has been dealing with hasn’t given him an antidote but that didn’t stop him from remaking a lesser version of it. The Bottle Street gang is now mass producing it alongside the elixir.”

“Information on his dealer?”

“Gone. We found evidence that they stayed along Endoria Street. The tracks suggested they took the river.”

“Then they could be anywhere.” Daud frowned and shook his head, it wasn’t important. “What about Slackjaw himself?”

“Hiding out, he switched from visiting the Distillery to once a week. Rinaldo thinks he’s planning to leave the city.”

Slackjaw’s head had always been on their list, his sales of watered down elixir the only thing that had stopped them from hunting him since Daud refused his sword to Burrows. It didn’t matter. His men were resourceful; intercepting crates of potions to the City Watch and Abbey but business with Slackjaw made things simply, until they found that some of the elixirs were drugged.

The damage wasn’t too bad, five men high off their asses and only one had fever hell. No deaths, which Daud was glad for.

Again, coin wasn’t a necessary to him anymore.

“Keep an eye on him.” Was all Daud said, before the doors closest to the old banker room swung open and a whaler rushed inside.

“Master Daud. Daniel attacked the Lord Protector.”

Fucking idiot, the master assassin thought. Yes, he knew that Daniel took his brother’s death hard but the orders not to bother Corvo Attano were there for a reason. How the bodyguard managed to escape, he didn’t want to know. What he wanted was to leave the man alone, even with the looming promise of his demise. “And?”

The whaler shifted uncomfortably under his glare. Zachary, one of the youngest and still getting used to the powers. “The Lord Protector knocked him out, I-I didn’t stay to see the rest.”

Another one to add to the list and this dying city.

“Thomas, inform the next sentries on duty to leave Attano alone. Nobody is to make contact with him, only observe from afar or they will answer to me.” His second in command nodded and saluted, traversing away without question while Daud turned to Zachary, “Explain what you saw in detail.”

They did not know whether Corvo had the Outsider’s gift, but Brian’s corpse on the rooftops was a sure sign enough. Still, Daud had no intention of provoking him yet. He wanted the man to come to him in his own time.

“We were almost done with our shift when Daniel told me he couldn’t take it anymore. He drew his sword, transversed down to the broken balcony.” He paused, hesitance in his voice and Daud waited. “There…there were rats, enough to cover the floor inside. They swarmed Daniel, then suddenly the Lord Protector was there, choking him out. He dropped Daniel on the floor, poked his body and then looked up at me. I ran after that.”

“The rats didn’t attack Attano?”

“Not as far as I could see. Maybe he found some way to tame them, some of the guys said rats have been stealing their food lately.”

Nodding, Daud filed that information away for later. Training rodents were not unheard of, but a whole swarm? “You can go.”

He waited for the sound of cutting wind and the other’s presence reappearing elsewhere, and looked up when the whaler didn’t leave with genuine curiosity. A shaking hand was directed at him, wristbow loaded and ready to fire. Zachary’s other hand was grasping his arm, as if fighting to pull away. “M-Master, I can’t move.”

Daud simply raised a brow at the other when the hand flexed. The bolt hit the table, completely off target. A coup, now? “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not— I can’t control my arm!” Another bolt fired, this time Daud had to duck from the sudden increase in accuracy. Beside him, Arden unsheathed his blade and stepped forward, stopping in his tracks when Zachary raised his bow hand up to his own throat.

The master assassin knew betrayal, the anger and overconfidence they would wave around. However, he also knew that the raw fear in the whaler’s voice was not an act. Not a willing one at least. Daud could barely see the shadowy wisps around the whaler’s hand, like a puppet’s string but no puppeteer. The boy was starting to shout, raising panic in his voice as the trigger slowly pulled taunt. “Oh fuck! Make it stop please I don’t want to—”

The world flicked gray for a moment before Daud was behind Zachary, violently twisting the hand away in time. What would have been lounged in the whaler’s neck embedded the ceiling with a sharp twat. Zachary’s arm thrashed in his grip as the owner bit back frightened yells, whimper and gasping. “What’s happening?”

Daud didn’t answer, since he honestly didn’t know. Delilah was dead and he couldn’t sense anyone else besides his men, who were starting to crowd outside at the commotion.

Instead, he turned to Arden while pulling the younger whaler’s arm behind his back. “Get some rope, it’s that or we’ll have to break his arm.”

He ignored the worried objection behind him, narrowing his eyes when Arden didn’t move. The Tyvian man began walking towards them, his posture changing into something unfamiliar and dangerous.

It took half a heartbeat, realization washing over him like a harsh tidal wave, cold and unforgiving a ship on the verge of sinking.

How did he not notice earlier?

Shouting and clashes of metal came from outside, but Daud didn’t dare look away. He drew his sword, watching how the other’s left hand twitched in a cloud of smoky shapes.

“Corvo. Here to settle our debt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE HYPE FOR DISHONORED 2 IS REAL. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT OMFG EMILY'S GROWN UP AND CORVO CUT HIS FABULOUS HAIR NOO-
> 
> I went to the mountains, lost Wi-Fi and finished this. I forgot to mention that because in this AU Corvo escapes a day earlier, he never gets that cutscense where bastard Burrows and ugly Campbell taunt him. He never knew it was their doing, only suspects so here Martin (sass backstabber) confirms it. Angel makers are real btw, although the term for that will vary from country to country. My ma told me stories of people selling daughters in the city area because Chinese families prefer boys. If they are lucky, they go to other families. Here the crack/drunk shit is probably going to be the last happy-crack bit, the rest is gonna be grey and sad but I'll sneak in a bit during Lady Boyle's party.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the sky and at the stars. Don't bother counting the latter but I owe that same amount of thanks to my beloved baby sister who betas my trash work. I am a dick, but i'm her dick (it sounds bad I know but it's true don't look at me).
> 
> Also, thanks to the other person who lives in this trash bin of potatoes, Taywen. Get out. uwu

Corvo moves fast, a blur of darkness that melts into the dim room and a short blade swinging open as he suddenly reappears in front of him.

Unfortunately for him, Daud is experienced in fighting those with this gift, raising his blade instinctively and in time to block. The clash of steel is piercing and jarring as Corvo shoves at him, forcing the assassin back a step. In return, Daud strains against the slowly nearing sword and leans forward, speaking through gritted teeth. "You understand, I won't make this easy for you."

He hears no retort, only breathing from the signature mask his men wear before Corvo draws back for a second, only to kick out at him. Daud dodges the hit the best he can from being so close, minimizing the blow while raising his left hand.

A series of sharp whistles cut through the air, but the shots hit wall and bare floor when Corvo Blinks away. Daud's glad that the magic of other's transverse is different, otherwise the next whaler too close to him would receive a stab to their eye should they join the battle. The Lord Protector spares a glance at the closest dart, observing the green liquid seeping out of broken glass before drawing a pistol.

Daud snorts at the other's choice, but is already preparing to transverse away. While he doesn't find guns useful in his profession—too loud, one shot and everyone would know. What use was it if it left an assassin stumbling around guards afterwards?—he knew not to underestimate a well-aimed headshot. "Do you really think that will change anything?"

Again, his taunting doesn't get a reply. Corvo simply raises his left hand, ungloved and the Mark burning bright, and then swinging it violently to the side.

Daud doesn't comprehend until he sees Zachary, still on the floor and shaking, jerk up into a stance and stumble towards him with his sword drawn. Like Delilah's influence, he muses while dodging Zachary's swings. Corvo has gotten a few of his men as far as he can tell from the fighting outside.

Two gunshots ring loudly in his ears. Daud grunts at the sharp burn blossoming in his right shoulder while Zachary screams and falls to the ground once more. He barely catches a glimpse of the young whaler's injury—still alive, if the groaning was anything to go by—as Corvo Blinks up to him, sword lashing out.

He curls his left fist, magic being pulled to a tight peak before the world goes muted and dull. Corvo doesn't stop moving however, even when Daud's wristbow flexes and he transverses away to safety.

The Lord Protector shifts his weight and reaches down to the sleep dart embedding his thigh, grabbing it and yanking it out. Half of the poison green was drained before Corvo carelessly tosses it aside, ignoring the forced sleepiness creeping in his veins. The master assassin's lips twist into something between a humorless smile and a sneer.

"Where was this fire when I killed your Empress?"

Corvo goes still for a heartbeat, seizing up at the words that sliced in too deep. Then he tries not to feel the growing fire that makes his teeth grind and fists shake. It hurts, tearing a wound that has barely started to heal, but it hurts even more to see the killer of his Empress standing before him, unharmed and alive. He starts into a run, before vanishing in blue and slamming into Daud's side when the bright void flashes again.

He doesn't know why Daud is drawing out the fight, doesn't care why he's playing with sleep darts. Corvo is fighting to kill, savage and reckless to stay silent when the blade cuts deep because he is too slow while Daud skips between the line of defending and not holding back.

Daud pulls a bottle of chokedust from his pouch while his harsh but honest question draws nonexistent blood, raising his sword and blocking what he can when Corvo practically throws himself at him. The Lord Protector's attacks are quickly sliding downhill to borderline suicidal. Daud frowns as he throws back swings of his own. Corvo chooses to ignore some instead of dodging, moving only enough to avoid the worst of the blade so he can strike before Daud can dodge.

The master assassin's glad that those swings are few, for the tip of Corvo's blade nearly takes out his eye when the bottle in his hand finally ticks right. He hurls it at their feet and ignores the cloud as it consumes the room, setting down a small but dense metal piece on the floor.

Not many people use chokedust during fights and as expected, Corvo hesitates, still housing enough sense to exchange rage for caution. He Blinks away from the cloud. Daud doesn't mind seeing the other not stumble or cough, the whaler mask filtering out the worst of the dust. He's more concerned whether Corvo has noticed the humming mine by Daud's boots yet.

"I know that symbol on your hand. We both share his gift. Pity you only got it after when it would have been useful." Perhaps things would have been different, the assassin thinks to add, but it's more than enough. With a snarl, anger audible no matter how muffled, Corvo charges at him.

He does notice the mine in the end, a heartbeat too late.

An arc of lightning hits the Lord Protector. He lets out a strangled cry of pain as his body tenses and jerks from the shock. Against his will, his body suddenly grows weak and Corvo acts on a split-second decision, throwing out his hand in a random direction and focusing on the pool of mana that's becoming too shallow.

Daud watches in surprise when Corvo somehow manages to transverse away, legs collapsing and forcing the younger man on his hands and knees across the room. It's somewhat disturbing to see Corvo suddenly so weak, dressed as a whaler and all the vigor behind his movement replaced with sluggishness.

That last thought lingers. While Daud will admit that Corvo would have made a good assassin—as good as Billie, perhaps better even—he finds that he entertains the impossible idea for a second too long and shoves it aside.

Get rid of the mask, Daud tells himself as he carefully walks over to his recovering foe. He makes sure that his wristbow is loaded with sleep darts. Three remain, plenty if Corvo doesn't get up in time. On the plus side, Corvo has dropped his sword—an odd contraption that slides and folds up neatly—when he teleported away so he would have to rely on hand-to-hand combat until he retrieves it.

Even so, he allows the surge of admiration for the other as the Lord Protector struggles to stand up. A single bolt from the stun mine would render a normal person unconscious; even his men would black out, but Corvo certainly doesn't fit in the normal category.

Not anymore at least.

Quiet shuffling at the sides, Daud can see his men, no longer fighting and now entering the room. Whatever bewitchment Corvo casted upon them has worn off, and Daud can only guess the cause is his state of weakness.

He points to the closest whaler, Rulfio who's heading towards Corvo with his blade out. "Stand down. This is between me and Corvo."

Rulfio pauses and looks at him, before grudgingly transversing away. The other stalking whalers who have come to his aid follow suit, one of them dragging Zachary out with them, watching from the windows and crumbling buildings outside but more than ready to rush in if need be.

Daud ignores them and starts to close the distance when a shout rings out:

"Rats? Rats! Watch out!"

A swarm of dirty fur pour from the cracks behind a bookshelf, shifting around aimlessly for a moment, before they split into two groups. There must be more outside, because the master assassin can see his men dancing and swinging their swords at their feet. The bigger swarm rushes towards Daud and against his better judgment, he summons for an assassin to take care of them, attention on the other group heading to Corvo who managed to get up into a crouch.

If the Lord Protector died to fucking rats, he's never going to live it down.

He grabs another vial of dust, ready to toss it when two loud zaps and a thump make him glance behind. The rats have ran towards the stun mine, leading the whaler to his temporary end. In the process, however, the last charge strikes them too, leaving small bits of ash, damp with blood as the only sign they ever existed. A coincidence, Daud muses as the mine gives a beep and explodes. Rats aren't that smart.

Turning back to Corvo, he finds the other unharmed by the rats and struggling to unscrew the lid of an elixir. It clicks and he understands the rats in the house and how rat swarms have never come up this close to the office until now; Corvo brings them here like how he calls for his men. They have taken out the stun mine and are now crowding around their summoner, little eyes dark and sharp teeth bright, hissing at him.

Interesting choice, Daud cannot help but think, what was the Outsider thinking? Especially with the plague going around, Corvo should be a weeper by now.

Perhaps he is. You don't really know until blood runs down the eyes.

Brushing the thoughts away, Daud throws the chokedust at them and quickly changes the dart to bolts, shooting the Lord Protector's potion before he can use it.

A shrill wail come from the rats as they flee, scattering to escape the cloud. On the other hand, Corvo shifts his arm in time, causing the bolt to hit the troublesome potion cap off instead. The master assassin scowls as Corvo chucks two grenades at him, forcing him to transverse away. The moment is enough for the potion to go down, before Corvo chunks the bottle in his direction and stands.

Daud teleports up to him, grabbing the younger man by the shoulder and driving his blade to the other's chest. Corvo seems to have anticipated the move, swiftly catching his wrist and guiding it past his body, swinging his other fist at Daud's chin.

He tastes blood and nearly bites his tongue in half but nothing seems broken. Corvo tightens his grip on Daud's wrist and forces it to release the sword, all the while pulling something slim and white out of his coat.

"Fight harder. I'm not Lady Boyle, you know." With a growl, the assassin uses his free hand to grab Corvo's mask, violently shoving him away.

A piece of aged bone shaped into a knife, something Daud realizes only once the blade nicked him across the collarbone. The cut is long but shallow and something he would normally brush off with ease, yet it burns like hell on his skin. Hissing in pain, a panicking suspicion of the knife being coated in acid has Daud transversing away to recuperate.

Corvo stumbles back, not bothering to adjust the mask and rips it off instead. Daud gets his first good look of the man he last saw months ago.

Tired is the first thing that comes in his mind, just not the kind that can be cured by rest. The Lord Protector looks like he was tired of life in general—not that Daud blames him, he would be too if they switched places—and the assassin's a little surprised that so much hate could be contained in a person's eyes.

I'm going to kill you.

It does not need to be said. It's clear that someone's going to die at the end of this fight and Daud knows that his grave had already been dug a long time ago. The battle was bound to happen, Daud just didn't expect it would happen so soon.

The Lord Protector's bone knife disappears in his coat as he snatches up the fallen blade. Daud hurls his last chokedust at him. To his shock, Corvo gestures and the wind picks up abruptly, blowing the ticking vial right back at him. Ignoring the dust, Daud plays an old trick and reaches out to the other. "Let's see whose life the Outsider will save."

Corvo's eyes widen as he feels his body lift, being dragged towards Daud and the cloud by an eerie green beam from Daud's left palm. The same move one of his men used on him, flashes of Jessamine being slapped and the blade shoved into her and Emily being taken away. The moment feels too long; all he can hear are their cries and her dying scream. His chest goes tight and he's not sure if it's from the pull of Daud's magic or just himself simply not breathing.

Either way, he can't block out the screaming or the feeling of his Empress's blood on his hands. He strains and struggles wildly against the force, heart hammering too loudly in his ears alongside the wails—it's starting to sound like there is more than just his heart but he doesn't want to know—as his panic quickly grows out of control.

The Mark flickers and fizzes out, mana too little to scoop up and unable to concentrate on it. Corvo gets dragged closer and closer, desperation forcing him to do something, anything. He doesn't care where the Blink would take him, so long as it's away and it feels like he's clawing at locked door, sealed in a small room with a flood pouring in. In a flash of blue light, Corvo finds himself upstairs on the loft in the room, grabbing the closest stable object to steady himself. The railing is cold yet burning under his bare palms, helping him snap back into the world. It does not stop the sounds but it's something. The flashes stop enough for him to drag air into his lungs.

Luck is not on his side however, as the space beside Corvo shivers and the Empress's killer steps out of dark tatters. What happened the next is a blur of rough hands, dropping Daud's blade and struggling as gravity yanks them down. A rush of fire in his left ankle as it bends the wrong way has Corvo choking back a sound of pain when they land, although Daud takes the worst of the fall from being under him.

Daud growls through gritted teeth and blinks at the sight of Corvo on his chest. Corvo reacts first by closing his hands around the other's throat. He can feel Daud swallow thickly, tendons straining as the assassin's left hand strikes his stomach while the right grabs Corvo by the neck.

The younger man twists violently to get away from the hand holding him and almost misses the small stings in his abdomen that Daud's punch nearly overpowers. It starts subtle at first, the strength in his hands dying away by the slightest, a short wave of drowsiness and the corners of Daud's lips tugging upwards.

Corvo punches him.

Rolling away while Daud's busy caressing his face, Corvo claws harshly at his abdomen. Two empty darts fall off, earning a growl from the Lord Protector as he hurriedly Blinks away.

"We are of the same breed, you and I." he hears Daud say back from the floor and ignores the rage the taunt invokes.

_I am nothing like you._

The sleep drug works fast. He doesn't have long and won't have anything outside pain or willpower to keep him from going under.

"We kill for others," Corvo suppresses the mild surprise at the other's words and it must have shown on his face because Daud goes on, "It's not hard to link four important disappearances to an enemy of the Regent."

Of course, who else would do better than a killer to find another killer.

Daud notices something at the corner of his eye and reaches for it. With a grunt, he stands up and carefully flips the slim handle, observing the blade as it slides out from the sheath with a curious glint. "But tell me, do you really think I'm your enemy?"

Corvo digs his fingers in the closest wound, a long shallow slash along his side, grimacing as pain draws him away from the hazy abyss lingering at the back of his head. He raises his hand and the ground in front of Daud is enveloped in a raising ring of darkness. Rats pour out to attack.

Huffing, the master assassin pulls at one of the rodents, wincing inwardly at the shrill scream the whole swarm makes as it dies. He sees Corvo jerk, startled by his summon's sudden death, and Daud aims his wristbow. "Are you even trying, Attano?"

The said man's mouth moves but the distance is too much for Daud to hear the quiet words. Whatever it is, it's in Serkonan and as fadely familiar and bittersweet Daud feels, he knows that the words probably were not pretty. He fires his last sleep dart, and Corvo side steps with a snarl.

"Fine," Daud sets down Corvo's sword and sneers. "We'll do this your way."

He transverses behind Corvo and hooks his arm around the other's neck before he can react. The Lord Protector struggles in his hold, bloodied fingers clawing at Daud's arm first, then quickly shifting upwards to try and gorge his attacker's eyes out.

Daud responses by pressing his face against Corvo's hair as the hood slips off, the scent of blood—and oddly enough, flowers—from the inconveniently long locks filling his senses. He tries not to think about it as he breathes harder, tightening his grip even while hands scratch at his own neck and cheek.

Dark spots dances in Corvo's sight as he tries to break the hold, his movements turning from wild to something less. In a way, he's glad that Daud isn't using that pulling magic to choke him out; the panic would have been too much then. Biting his lip hard to keep the sleep at bay, Corvo shoves backwards as violently as he can.

The master assassin stumbles back a step before instinctively pushing back, eyes growing wide when he realizes too late what Corvo's doing. First trick in the book: use your opponent's weight against them.

Feeling the push, Corvo ducks down the best he can and tilts forward, throwing Daud over him. The older man falls and while he doesn't release Corvo, the grip loosens until the Lord Protector can yank free and collapse beside the other.

Corvo coughs and gasps loudly, blinking away the spots as he draws the bone knife. It would be a quick move: stab Daud in the throat and be done with it or use the last of his mana to Blink away. The former choice sounds too appealing, but Daud catches his wrist when he lunges. Grunting, the assassin flips on top of him, bodily pinning him down.

"Is this the man who protected the Empress?"

With a snarl, the younger man tries to shove him off. The two wrestle, rolling and fighting to be on top. Daud pushes hard when he sees the chance, stopping the roll with him above. He has both the other's wrists in hand, forcing the knife out of Corvo's. His lips twists into a crooked smile fueled by anger that is not directed at the man under him. "No wonder she died."

"Fuck you!" spits the Lord Protector as he blindly kicks out as hard as he can. The first hit connects with Daud's hip, earning only a grunt through gritted teeth, then a startled sound when Corvo violently twists underneath him and yanks his wrists free. Daud wheezes softly when Corvo punches his crotch, the latter taking that moment of weakness to flip them over and grab the bone knife. Whatever hazy sleep that creeps into his skull has been shoved to the back, trampled by rage and bloodlust.

He holds back the urge to immediately sink the blade into Daud's neck and snags a fist full of short hair instead. Corvo lifts Daud's head up before slamming it against the wooden floor. The master assassin growls and his eyes flicker with something Corvo doesn't care to observe, but he doesn't struggle as strongly as Corvo did.

In fact, he does not move at all when Corvo presses the knife to his throat. Daud simply stares up at the other, as if waiting for the feeling of razor sharp pain and choking on blood. When it doesn't come, his mouth twitches into a light, mocking grin. "What's wrong, bodyguard?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" Daud raises a brow and ignores the blood trailing down his lips, having bitten his tongue. The back of his head throbs from where the floor connected, but he listens to the raw hatred in the other's question.

"Why did you kill her?"

Corvo slams his head against the floor once more, hard enough that black spots fill his vision for a few seconds. The blade sinks by the slightest in the steady hand and Daud lets out a grunt of pain, his grin turning twisted and cold.

"Which one?"

The murderous expression morphs into something darker and Corvo doesn't response, slamming the other's head down again. Daud can feel warmth gathering and pooling at where his wounds are, eyeing a long red line that drags from the underside of Corvo's chin to his collarbone. Another slam and he starts talking, dropping his head back without a care but keeping his eyes locked on the other's. "It was just a job, nothing personal."

Well it is now, whispers a small voice in his head and Daud acknowledges it with a wave of bitterness. Corvo says nothing, so he keeps talking. "Burrows paid extra because you weren't supposed to be there, but I'd give it all back if it meant she would still be alive."

A glint of distrustful confusion in the Lord Protector's eyes lived long enough to have Daud chuckling in self-pity. A guilt, never leaving since his blade ran through the Empress, grew tenfold and ate him inside. "Dunwall was already starting to rot even before the plague; rich bastards living the life while the poor worked or starved." That guilt now rips his insides in attempt to redeem himself, and for how he failed. "She was the only thing keeping it afloat. I realized this too late."

"This isn't just about her." Corvo's tone is quiet and frozen over, losing what anger in his previous question. The hand in Daud's hair is trembling, but the knife still remains steady; impressive if the situation wasn't so grim. "Why Emily? She had _nothing_ to do with this."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck is she dead? It was your men the maid saw." Daud's not sure what makes him grimace more: the back of his head meeting the floor again or how the younger man's voice cracked from heavy emotion."Wasn't one Empress enough?!"

"It wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it happened regardless." hisses Corvo as he leans over and yanks Daud's head back, the neck so vulnerable that all the blade needs is just a small push. Not yet, he repeats like a mantra, until the killer himself tells his reason. A reason to put his restlessness at ease long enough for it not to drive him over the edge. Their deaths cannot be in vain, left forgotten to all but Daud himself. "Answer me."

"Delilah Copperspoon. The black-eyed bastard gave me a name, wanted me to dance a jig." Daud takes a brief pause and wears expression of bitter amusement. The god always got what he wanted. "Guess I did."

"Like us, the Outsider gave her the Mark. She could put her will into objects and people, control them by painting portraits of people." The master assassin pauses, licking his lips while he thinks on how to explain the story to a hurting man. "I don't know much about her for all my years in this city. My men are still digging up the secrets but I didn't know that Delilah was connected to the late Empress and that she seeked the throne. She was going to possess Emily and rule, wearing her skin."

Corvo studies him and the hand in Daud's hair relaxes slightly. Possession? On Emily? It sounds like what he uses, but to live in someone's body with the original soul still inside... He can't imagine what it would be like, more than five minutes in another person's thoughts and life. It's most likely torture from both sides constantly fighting to be in control; one of them would go insane eventually.

But it still doesn't explain why she's—

"I tried to stop her, but we were too late. Delilah finished her ritual and she disappeared before she could be killed. Rushed to where they kept the girl to stop she from escaping with the help of Delilah's coven."

The Lord Protector almost looks fearful, as if speaking has to be forced. Like it hurts. "What did you do."

"...We thought that we could find a way to reverse the spell. Find an old witch by the name of Granny Rags who knows too much, or force Delilah's witches to fix it but—"

"You killed her." Corvo says, barely louder than a whisper yet it's enough to have Daud stop mid-sentence. He releases Daud's hair and leans back, staring down at him with eyes wide in dawning horror. The sight baffles Daud to a certain degree, no matter how broken of a man Corvo seems to be, there is still more room for cracks. "You killed my—"

"It wasn't him."

Their heads turn to the side at the voice, to the lone whaler standing a few feet away.

"Thomas—" Daud starts but his new second in command cuts him off by shaking his head.

"What Daud says is true, we did try to save her. The two of us found her in the Pendleton Manor, using the plants and statues to escape. Daud knocked her out and we were discussing who to seek help from... I believe Delilah forced Lady Emily to wake up. She had a carving knife and was about to stab him. I simply reacted." Thomas pulls off his mask, revealing a dark-skinned male in his early thirties. He then draws his sword in a slow move, kneeling down and holding the blade out to Corvo. "I did it. If you wish to kill me, I will not stop you, but please know that it's not Daud's fault."

" _Not_ Daud's fault?" spits Corvo as he narrows his eyes at Thomas judgingly, outrage replacing the cruel realization from before. "If it weren't for _him_ , none of this would have happened."

"Do you really think so, Mister Attano? If Daud didn't take the job, Hiram Burrows would have easily found someone else to kill the Empress. He has the coin and there are always people out for blood. There wouldn't be a difference."

"I should kill you." Daud turns his attention to the Lord Protector's quiet murmur, nearly missing it over Thomas's insistent reasoning. Corvo is leaning over him once more, messy hair framing and casting a shadow over his face. He looks so tired and Daud can feel his distress, see the conflict in Corvo's eyes even as his words are biting. "You don't deserve to live."

"I know." the master assassin replies, equally as soft. "You should." He looks away when drops of wetness land on his face, it's neither blood nor drool but he respects the other man enough not to say anything. Instead he concentrates on the trembling hand beside his head, observing how Corvo's left hand claws at the floor and how the Mark is exactly like his own yet housing different powers.

"There was nothing we could do. Killing us won't bring the dead back—"

"Enough!" Corvo snaps with hunched shoulders and eyes squeezed shut, ignoring the unwillingly tears or how choked his voice is. He doesn't look up nor does he move the blade from Daud's neck, simply sitting there and breathing quietly to hold back the worst.

"I have one more surprise for you." Daud speaks after what feels like a long time, silence ringing in his ears. "I ask for my life."

The Lord Protector slowly opens his eyes and blinks. Daud watches the angry tears roll down his cheeks. "When I killed your Empress and took her daughter, something broke inside of me. I look at the Mark you wear and think about the years I've spent hiding in the shadows, coin changing hand and my blade taking lives." He sighs and shuts his eyes, but the image of a broken man crying on top of him won't leave. "I tried to redeem myself by saving her heiress from a fate worse than death, and I failed. Explaining how won't bring them back, but know that I did try.

"So my life is in your hands. Make your choice."

He waits. After a minute that seems to last forever, Daud feels the knife sink into his skin, burning his neck like a brand.

Then it stops, as if uncertain, and Daud catches Corvo looking off to the side. He can't see what the other's looking at from his angle—it's not the Outsider, he's certain—but Corvo is staring intently at whatever it is, head cocking to the side as if he's listening.

He drops his gaze down to Daud.

A heartbeat passes, then the blade moves away and the weight on his lower half follows suit. Daud watches Corvo stand and walk away, to Thomas. His second in command and most loyal still hasn't moved from his kneeling position, hanging his head submissively as Corvo grabs the presented sword.

"Stand up."

Thomas does not look up once, not even as he obeys Corvo's order. The bodyguard raises the weapon, right where the whaler's heart is, pauses for a moment, and shoves.

Uttering not a sound, Thomas takes the blow, his expression showing nothing as Corvo drives the blade into the other man's shoulder. The sword shifts, wiggling slightly and only after a muffled pop is hear does the Lord Protector pull away. Thomas stumbles back, holding his dislocated shoulder and staring Corvo in muted shock that he's still alive.

Corvo stares back blankly.

Dead eyes, Daud thinks, cold and dead to the world even as he touches his throat with leathered hands. The cut's not too bad, but then he throws his gaze to the direction of whatever Corvo had been looking at.

It's a rat, fur as white as the first falls of snow even though Daud knows that it should be covered in dirt or blood or something—never as clean as it is now. Beady eyes blink at him once, before it scuttles over to the Lord Protector and climbs up his leg until Corvo reaches down and picks it up. He half expects Corvo to drop it, crush it or maybe even bite its head off—some do it, out of hunger or insanity—but Corvo simply cradles the small animal like it's made of glass.

The Lord Protector starts for the broken wall that leads to the walkways, Thomas's sword still in hand while his left holds the rat. His steps are somewhat wobbly, the sleep darts clearly taking its toll. Daud briefly wonders what would happen if Corvo collapses here when the bodyguard stumbles.

Corvo catches himself on the Daud's desk, the sword hitting the wood with a clunk while his hand shifts on the mess of papers on the desk. The man pauses and his head turns to follow the posters and letters of completed jobs, to the map of Dunwall Tower used for Jessamine's assassination.

Daud isn't sure how long Corvo stands there, studying the map and the board of crossed out faces behind the table, and is half certain that he's going to turn around and kill them when Corvo continues out.

With a deep breath, Daud grits his teeth and snarls. "Not a man enough to the finish the job, Corvo?"

He doesn't get a response outside a flash of void blue and wind, and suddenly Daud's alone with Thomas. It takes a few seconds before the whalers transverse in, half of them keeping guard like watchdogs in case Corvo comes back and the rest crowding around him and Thomas. The master assassin sighs and hopes that the ones outside are smart enough to stay out of Corvo's path, holding out a hand to prevent his men from getting too close as he sits up.

"Well, that's going to leave a mark." Kieron remarks after a low whistle, carelessly dumping the bag containing his medical equipment beside him as he crouches in front of Daud. "Surprised it ain't deeper, considering how he had you down."

"Where's Ley?" Daud holds back an exasperated groan when the younger man points over to Thomas. Of course their veteran surgeon would pick Thomas while he got the former veterinarian. Not that Daud doesn't trust Kieron's skills, it's just that Ley knows when to keep her mouth shut while Kieron just wouldn't.

"Don't worry, sir, I'm just getting the worst of it before passing you to her." There's a quiet crack and a pop while Thomas hisses in pain, Ley's angry growl for everyone to get the fuck out so they can breathe. Kieron doesn't look away from swiftly threading the needle, pulling out a small bottle and some bandages. "Plus, I only know how to fix a dog's dislocated limb, not a human, although I do know how to do backs when you twist them wrongly since you're ol—" Daud's glare cuts the young medic off. The latter coughs and continues, "—going through hard times. Yeah, hard times hurt your back and all but not because you're old or—"

"Kieron."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Shut up." The medic stops talking but Daud knows from experience that it would only serve to pend up more ranting, so he shifts his attention to the other whalers in the room. "Those of you who have no need to be here, get back to your patrols." He pauses at the sting of antiseptic as Kieron gently taps the cut at his neck. "And stay away from the Lord Protector."

A few grumbles and looks are thrown at him and Thomas, before the crowd starts to lessen with every transversal until only a few are left. The remainders moved to stand by the usual places where Daud would have a sentry, but he can feel their eyes on him. Out of worry or to see their leader weak, he doesn't care.

"Still alive." says Ley when she walks over, cleaning blood off her hands with a rag while inspecting the bandages around Daud's neck, then at Kieron who's stitching up one of his many wounds. "Not bad."

"Thanks."

"I expected worse, y'know, from how fucking low some of those taunts were." Ley's lips twists into something between a smile and a grimace as she kneels down next to her apprentice. "It was low, even for you, Daud."

The said man shoots her a tired, irritated look. "I didn't ask for your input."

She eyes him carefully, before scoffing at Kieron. "Sew closer to the edge, idiot."

"But I don't want to hurt him." comes the whine.

"It's just a flesh wound, boy. He can take it."

Ley waits patiently until Kieron was done tying the knot, before taking the needle from him and sending him to make sure Thomas was alright. "Aye," she starts quietly, confident hands working swiftly to close up another open cut. "But that doesn't change the fact you tugged some real low strings."

Daud doesn't answer, settles for closing his eyes and ignoring the numb feeling of the needle tugging his skin.

"I had a son once, back in Karnaca."

"Rather talkative today, aren't you." He allows a drop of annoyance into his tone, letting the older woman know that he's not in the mood but Ley has worked with pirates in her younger years, and now with him. She knows that Daud can't immediately kill her unless they want to find a new trustworthy surgeon, and she takes the advantage to run her mouth in a such serious and moral targeting sense that Daud wishes Kieron came back.

"Kieron's lucky that he reminds me enough of my boy that I don't knock his head in for every stupid thing he does." A fond smile crosses her face for a bit, lingering as her rough hands grow softer. "They would have been good friends. Probably make you rip your hair out, but good friends nonetheless."

"I don't need to know this."

The older woman's smile drops as she leans back slightly to observe her work, then proceeds to drown Daud's wound in more antiseptic and bandage it up. "I don't know what was going through that head of yours, but we all saw how you fought him, how you used those words."

"I recruited you to heal, not lecture me, Ley."

She presses a darkening bruise a little too hard. "Have you ever wondered what they call people who lose their children?"

"I don't care."

"Have you?"

Her words have no bite, only a tired insistence for an answer and Daud sighs loudly. There is a word at the back of his mind, one blurred and dusty that once left his mother's lips but he can't remember enough to put it on his tongue. "No."

"They have a name for one who loses their partner and one for a child who loses their parents, yet none for one who loses their baby."

With one last tug, Ley cuts the remaining sting from the knot and frowns down at her work. Seven wounds, nothing too bad that he can't pull through. She stands, snatching up Kieron's bag while grabbing Daud by the arm, helping him to stand and leaving him to lean against the nearest solid object. "There's a fine line between taunting a tyger into a fight and pushing one over the edge. My job's to keep people alive but I can't do that if they're throwing themselves into a fucking fire." Ley pauses, glancing back over to Kieron who was chatting with Thomas. "And while I understand you feel the guilt, it's a poor excuse for us to lose a leader."

"...I will keep that in mind."

"Good." With a huff, Ley shoves a bottle of painkillers into his hand. "Two pills three times a day, four if the pain's too much; maybe headbutt the wall to knock yourself out. I assume that you can still transverse, if not, get one of the guys to piggyback you. Have a nice day, sir, and try not to die." The veteran medic gives a small salute and leaves before Daud can retort, earning a low growl from him.

Turning, he notices that two whalers—Rinaldo, who would give reports when Thomas couldn't and Walter—have just entered the room. Daud holds back a sigh. He just wants to rest now. "What is it."

"Sir? Corvo collapsed on a rooftop just now, two blocks away."

"And?"

"He— uh, got up. But his eyes were really weird when he looked back at us."

"Like how."

"Black." Walter blurts out and withers under both his and Rinaldo's gaze. "They were black, I swear—and he even smiled at us."

"He smiled at you?"

"Yes, sir. Teeth and all..."

"Is that all?"

"From me, sir." Walter bows and leaves as quickly as he can, while Rinaldo crosses his arms.

"Should we still send a patrol to watch him?"

"No." Daud says as he pops the lid of the bottle and swallows two pills. His gut twists uneasily at the new information, but perhaps the black eyes are a side effect of the Outsider's gift to Corvo. The Mark has been claiming his arm. It wouldn't been surprising. "And what of the commotion outside just now? I saw men fighting amongst themselves."

"Five of them just started attacking us, or at least trying to. It was more like pushing people off the walkways and awkwardly swinging their swords, shouting that they couldn't stop but whatever took over them stopped halfway. They've been restrained and all say that some kind of force made them do it, like they were submersed in water and their limbs belonged to someone else."

"Causalities?"

"Besides Cleon tackling Desmond off the walkways into the waters, a bullet in Zachary's leg and Galia breaking his nose, nobody really got hurt. What should we do with them?"

"Release them. Were the ones who attacked on sentry duty to watch Attano?"

"I believe so."

"More the reason to stay away. You may go."

Rinaldo nods and salutes him, but Daud notices him hesitate and shoots him a questioning look.

"He nearly killed you, master. Leaving him alone will only serve for him to recover and come back."

The master assassin sighs through his nose as he makes his way to the table, hands resting on paper. "If he wanted to kill me, he would have just now." He takes a long pause, staring down at the map of Dunwall Tower but not actually seeing it. "He had the chance and didn't take it."

"Understood." says the whaler before he turns away. A sigh leaves the master assassin and he closes his eyes, trying to assemble his thoughts.

"You weren't trying."

Daud is surprised but doesn't flinch at the voice, scowling at Rinaldo. The whaler has his back to him, standing in front of the Lord Regent's painting with his head cocked to the side. The temperature in the room has dropped at some point and the air shifts like before a storm, Daud notices as the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

"You fought him the way you've been fighting months back, the only blood staining your sword is still the Empress's." Rinaldo continues but the cadence and tone is off, like someone had the whaler record his words in an audiograph. Daud knows who but doesn't see shadowy wisps or the damn mocking face that begs to be punched. "What were you doing? Were you trying to spare him, like how you spared everyone else?"

He ignores the questions to test whether or not he has been drawn into the Void without his knowledge by picking up the nearest book and dropping it. The room doesn't look any different and Daud can still see his men walking around outside but the book goes against the laws of gravity: It falls, freezes, then slowly floats up towards the ceiling.

Daud briefly ponders if Ley was finally done with his shit and decided to poison him with those pills.

"I did what I had to." Daud growls out, glaring at Rinaldo's back or at least the person who looks like him. The Outsider has never done this before, but it wouldn't surprise Daud if this is the bastard's new trick to annoy him.

"And now you are trying to find a idea to smother the guilt again. Do you really think sparing him would earn you forgiveness?"

Daud does not answer but he does debate if punching Rinaldo would shut the deity up.

"Will that change anything?" The world shifts and the whaler is gone, replaced by the floating bastard who has gotten closer without Daud's notice. The Outsider tilts his head, staring down at the man with cold curiosity akin to a predator watching its meal attempt to squirm out from its claws. "Will it help you sleep at night?"

'Fuck off' is on the tip of his tongue but if those simple words could send the Outsider away, Daud would be living a less stressful life so he stayed stubbornly silent.

"I'm surprised you still have a heart to feel emotions like guilt. I assumed that you had replaced it with lead long ago."

Regardless of his answer, the deity grins; a line of white too sharp and unsettling. He raises a stiff hand and the book that has been floating away, falls into his palm. "You led a life of coin and blood, a blade always in one hand while the other weighted your pay. Look at where you are now, dragging yourself out of spilled blood that's waist deep and rising, on to a boat with the man you ruined. Tell me, my old friend, will you jump overboard or will he have to push you?"

"What makes you think I got on the boat? I could have climbed up, took one look at him and sunk back down for all you know."

"I know." The Outsider sets the book down on the desk as the shadows melt away. "Because it took the death of an Empress to remind you that you're still human."

The room flickers back to how it's supposed to be and Daud finds himself in his bed, alone to drown in his thoughts. He stares up at the ruined ceiling and darkening sky, before burying his face in the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, and there's another chapter tomorrow because I wrote too much but yay the Daud is here and his doucheness has gone off the charts. Despite the douche, this Daud was actually on clean hands and yea using pull on a whole swarm of rats will indeed kill all of them, poor Corvo.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! That amazing drawing was done by Wimex, go check them out on DeviantART!  
> http://lady-yuna7.deviantart.com
> 
> Warning: there are parts where it's kind of touchy with family relationships. If you're uncomfortable, skip it at the second line break. Enjoy!

When Corvo wakes up, it's from the numbing cold. He stares up at an endless sea of blue, empty of floating rubble or pipes or fragments of buildings. Just a piece of the Void with nothing but him. His eyes feel too heavy and heated that he closes them again, shifting on his side and curling up. He waits until his spirit grows restless enough and sits up, observing this chunk of the world.

A street that looks somewhat familiar is on his right, time-frozen weepers and rats pouring out of an alleyway while the Watch hold their ground. It's too far to reach so he looks over to the left. There is a large floating piece of land that appears to be a valley, as if the Void has plucked a piece of the prettier parts that still exist outside Dunwall City. White stone, young grass with flowering bushes and a huge tree looming overhead.

Behind that, a dark shape stood in the distance. Corvo knew it by heart: the Tower.

He stands and frowns in confusion when the floor under him moves, just a little, but he notices regardless.

It's a whale, larger than the ones he has ever seen in his life, suspended in the Void with water still around it in waves and sprays as if it's captured in the act of leaping out of the sea. It blinks up at him when he peeks over, a large dark eye staring up in curiosity as why this tiny creature is on it. Yet, as it blinks again and moans along with the constant song of the Void, Corvo cannot feel a steady pulse of a heartbeat nor the lifting of breath from the body under him. He ignores this unusual fact and gives the great beast a pat of thanks for a reason he cannot name—pity, perhaps. If it's truly alive, it's never going to see the ocean or swim with its family again. He straightens up.

In the direction of the valley, a rock floats close enough to teleport onto, but it requires a leap of faith, followed by another Blink. Corvo carefully makes his way up to it and tenses, before running and throwing himself as far as he can.

He can't die here, a voice whispers as a reminder of what happened when he misfired a Blink, _He won't let you_.

Grass and soil shift as his boots dig in. Corvo realizes that the beauty of this place isn't natural nor has it been untouched. Ruined marble statues stand scattered around, forked stairs by the tree's roots and an cove craved between the stairs. There's something thick in the air as Corvo cautiously walks around a white stone table, frowning at the many used candles on it and a crumpled ball of paper. Further behind the table is a scorched board propped up against the back of the cove. Corvo eyes the board and the paper, before going against his screaming instincts and picks up the latter.

The Lord Protector unwraps it and reads. He stands there for a long time, but it doesn't matter as the Void does not obey time's rule. His eyes follow the delicate writing again and again, before he slowly crushes it in his fist. He has to force his body to move, towards what he first thought was a board out of fear that he wouldn't be able to if he read the poem again. The canvas is too badly burnt to make out what the original image was. A small puddle of colours drip from the painting while a fallen brush with paint still wet on its tip lies beside it. Odd, how the surrounding plants behind the canvas have been left unaffected by the fire.

Corvo stares at it, trying to picture who he knows was once on the blackened surface before reaching up. He tears it down. It comes off easy and hits the ground with a quiet thud, while the air hisses around him like a feral animal having its tail yanked but nothing happens. It angers him in a manner he cannot explain.

Turning on his heel, he makes his ways over to where he has seen Dunwall Tower. It doesn't look any different from the last day he saw Jessamine, the pleasing blue of the Kaldwin family's banners hanging from the building drifting in the wind even though he knows that Hiram Burrows has them torn down in the week he became Lord Regent. The doorway to the Tower is open, a bright white light leaking from it. He takes a few steps closer to the edge and jerks back when a cobblestone path suddenly forms before him. Corvo narrows his eyes at it with distrust and steps gingerly, Blinking up to the door.

When he enters and the light fades away, he does not see the rich red and gold and stone of the Tower's inside. Instead, Corvo stands in a dirty, dusty house that feels too small for him, but still painfully familiar. The air is warm and the scent of spices, sun and fish hits him, the nostalgia almost enough to have him torn between drawing the sword he does not have and running to the kitchen he knows is there.

"Corvo, what're you doing? I told you to check your sister!"

The voice is tired, stern and feminine and it hurts to hear it over all these years—only in rare dreams does she speak, to reprimand or to comfort but her face is always shadowed. It has him stumbling into the tiny kitchen, uncaring of his sister's wail in the background. She has her back turned to him, the worn-out shawl on her shoulders and a bun of long brown hair that still hasn't lost its luster. She's busy chopping vegetables and the fish she barely has enough coin to afford for, but she's the very picture of what he can barely remember when he was little.

"Mamma?" he cannot help but blurt out, barely louder than a whisper, yet she seems to hear.

"She's still crying." his mother says in a slightly raised voice, a warning before she gets angry and Corvo instinctively takes a step back, feet already taking him out to the living room.

He stops in front of a large cushion seat that someone has thrown away, now used as a makeshift cradle to house his sister until she's old enough to walk. But when Corvo picks up the bundle of cloth, there's nothing wrapped inside. No little pale hands reaching out to grab his fingers, no plump face and rosy cheeks to smile up as she chews on his thumb; just rags over rags and her needy wails. Corvo still holds onto her despite that, arms moving to rock a non-existing baby like how he used to—for both her and Emily—and the crying softens into sniffles. He doesn't remember if his sister just liked being carried, but he does recall running around with her weight in his arms. Or was that Emily, how she always squealed in delight when he held her up and let her play with his hair?

"Good, Good, you shut her up. Grazie." she mutters as she dumps the chopped ingredients into a rusty pot when he comes back. "Did you— _merda_." Corvo spots a flash of red, his mother just cut herself and he grabs a rag from the sink but she doesn't react to the offered cloth. "Did you see your papa yet? He's supposed to be back hours ago."

The Lord Protector stares at his mother's back, feeling his heart sink. She was a strong woman, the shock of her husband's death hitting her hard but she pulled through, having two young kids to raise. "He's dead, Mamma."

She doesn’t reply, shifting to stir the pot with bloodied fingers rough from hours of needlework and longer hours in the factory. It would be an easy thing to lean over and peek at her face, but Corvo doesn't want to, doesn't dare. Something's screaming for him to get out of this house that's too small for him now.

"Where are you going?" she asks with genuine concern as he sets the bundle of cloth on the counter and heads out of the kitchen. "Dinner's almost done."

"You're not real." he murmurs and reaches the front door, the old lock still not replaced and won't be until she dies because there's nothing to steal from this household, when a terrible crash comes. Corvo knows he shouldn't stop, that he should throw the door open and run but he still does and waits for the woman who isn't his dead mother to say something.

It's eerily quiet. Corvo can't tell if he's in the Void anymore, the hot afternoon sun seeping through dirty windows. The Lord Protector's hand starts to twists the handle when she finally speaks: "You're leaving me."

"You're not my mother." Corvo states, ignoring the sound of her footfalls as she leaves the kitchen to stand in the living room. "She's dead."

"You are leaving me, just like your papa and sister." she says this as if she's just realizing it, a hint of hurt and outrage in her tone and Corvo grits his teeth.

"Stop."

"Your papa died and I had to work so hard just to put food on the table for you and your sister!" His mo— no, the thing let out a short hysterical laugh. "Your sister. _Si_ , she runs to the nearest Oracle as soon as she can walk, impresses them so that she doesn't have to starve or worry about coin or clothes or anything and—" Corvo hears the thing collapse, feels a small gust against his legs as her voice trembles and lowers. "She never comes back once to see us. What did I do? D-did I not work hard enough? I know I couldn't afford the toys you wanted or sometimes even food but—"

"I said stop." Corvo snaps and turns around to face her. He doesn't blink or gasp in shock when he sees the woman's face is... is not there. It's like someone smudged a thumb across where her face should be, blurring the lines of reality but the air around her is clouded enough that he can tell that she's crying. "My mother did her best, to the day she died and that's it."

"You're going to let me die alone!" she shouts, her exclamation is choked out and breaking with desperation.

He throws the door open, eyes squeezing shut from the bright light from outside. Corvo puts one foot out into the white and hangs his head, letting out a shaky breath.

"I know."

 

* * *

 

He remembers hearing the news from the commander of his squad, a Grand Guard senior by ten years who was sent to accompany him to Dunwall. She had died in her bed, needing a full day and the stink of her corpse to bring her death to attention.

He remembers the bitter words in their last conversation when he visited to give her money, her accusing hisses about him joining the Guard to leave her and more to his back on how he was walking away without replying to a word. A broken heart they said, a few days after watching his ship sail away from the harbor.

This double the Void created is wrong about one thing: his sister did visit in the end.

She organized the funeral herself, now high up in the ranks of the Oracles with plenty of donations, and was the one who placed most of the flowers and candles. She was the only one mourning and keeping vigil, the only one with tears in her eyes and asking for forgiveness. While Corvo kept himself on neutral regards towards her, but he can't help but feel that her efforts were a bit too late.

 

* * *

 

His boot hits solid earth, dust circling as he pretends that he can't hear his mother's voice screaming for him to come back, taking another steady step forward. Instead, Corvo focuses on the growing hate for the Outsider and the Void. The previous room was his old home, targeting a guilt left to rot. This place was reaching for a different wound, tearing gently at his heart.

"Come on, Corvo. It's your turn to find me!"

It's unnerving, hearing Emily's voice as if she's right in front of him despite not having a soul in sight. Corvo doesn't take his eyes off the direction of the voice to look around, but he's sure that this is the usual place where they would play.

Their usual place.

Corvo frowns and doesn't speak when the air shifts. Something moves past him with the pitter patter of light feet. "Count to ten and no peeking, okay?"

He keeps frowning even as his body automatically walks over to the rock wall he normally would, facing away from most of the yard to allow Emily a chance to hide. A giggle rings behind as he counts, slowly while trying to figure out why the Outsider's doing this—a voice whispers that the god's not even here. Corvo mouths ten and turns. He hesitates, unsure if he really wants to play hide and seek with a phantom but he still moves to peer behind the large boulder.

She's not there, or by the leafless tree or anywhere else she would usually hide—of course she isn't, she's not even here—and just as Corvo starts to feel an old panic that Emily has somehow managed to clamber over the wall and onto the pipes behind it, he sees a small shadow dart at the corner of his eye.

"Over here, Mister Corvo."

Corvo opens his mouth and snaps it shut; he doesn't want to give this phantom the name its trying to wear. Instead he starts for where he saw the shadow go to, before twisting around when he sees it dart again, already behind him and too swift for a child.

It giggles, a little louder than the footsteps up the stairs. "Hurry up, we're almost there!"

He Blinks after up, feeling more and more uneasy as she leads up higher, past the iron gates and more stairs up to the garden. The pavilion's cold tiles click under his boots, coated in the overwhelming scent of copper. With his lips in a thin line, Corvo slowly walks up to the scene, fist clenched and heartbeat quickening.

The Lord Protector expects the splash of blood, still red and fresh from the unmoving time of the Void, and the ache blossoming in his chest as if it's tearing open. However, the one thing he expects the most, what would have him crumble after not seeing her since the day he received the Mark, isn't there.

Jessamine's body is gone, and Corvo stares at the missing shape like a broken heart long enough to notice that something about the bloodstains is different. There's still a lot of it, spilled from a woman he still cares and thinks about when there is time to grief, but it has shifted _as if something was dragged through the puddle_ —

Corvo's breath hitches against his will as he follows the trail to the edge of the gazebo, over into the Void below. He stops breathing completely when he notices another thing.

Handprints.

A pair of bloody handprints accompany the stains leading to the edge and the image of Jessamine gasping in agony as she drags herself away from mess won't leave Corvo's mind even as he tells himself that she died swiftly, knows that not even the best doctor could save her from that wound. Despite his thoughts, the Lord Protector makes his way to the edge, careful with avoid the blood and where she once laid.

As he does, he feels a presence behind him. Friend or foe, Corvo doesn't know but he doesn't care either so he looks over the edge.

To see what? Her, hanging over the edge or maybe her broken body on the floating rocks below? He does not know, snuffing out the tiny candle of hope that lit for whatever unknown reason, and closes his eyes as he takes two steps forward and not one back.

Gravity pulls him down, but for a moment it feels like he's floating in mid-air when the otherworldly light of the Void comes close. The feeling has Corvo thinking of the Outsider, and a laugh bubbles from his lips.

Is the god watching all this? Is he enjoying the show? A cruel joke, the witch muses and bares his teeth in a grin as he keeps falling. In a way, he's glad. His mother has always been a taboo thing shoved aside for a thought more comfortable. He has been forced him to face it. Still, it doesn't mean that he has to like it and Corvo has intentions to let the Outsider know that.

He waits for the fall to stop, prepares to catch himself on the bloodied tiles of the gazebo like how the Void always does, but it doesn't drop him there. Much to his surprise, Corvo lands in water and he reacts by flailing.

"I should really stop expecting thing." grumbles the Lord Protector as he stands up, waist-deep in the water, soaking wet and cold. He absentmindedly notes that it's seawater as he inspects his new surroundings.

It's a beach, the sand white and waters unclear, and it's not any beach he's ever been to in his life. There are no ships or fishing villages, just him. It somehow unnerves Corvo more than a phantom using Emily's voice. He starts for the land, frowning when his leg catches something soft but heavy. It nearly trips him.

Pausing, Corvo narrows his eyes at the obstacle but the murky waters reveal nothing. He cautiously reaches down to grab hold of whatever it is—probably a bad idea—when a pale arm reaches out from the waves and grabs him instead.  
My dear Corvo.

Corvo nearly misses the greeting, how muffled and warped it is in his ears while black eyes stare up at him through shifting water. He stares back for a heartbeat, then instinct kicks in and he tries to pull the Outsider out before he drowns but he doesn't budge.

It is as if the sea doesn't want to let go of the god. Corvo yanks again as hard as he can, the Outsider's arm surprisingly warm against his own cold skin, his tugs growing slightly frantic even as those dark eyes blink calmly at him.

The Outsider tightens his grip on Corvo's wrist briefly, like trying to comfort the other.

Then, he starts to pull him in.

Eyes widening, Corvo only has a moment to suck in a breath before the water envelopes him, blocking his senses. There is a constant low hum, along with more melodious sounds all around him while the water grows too dark and too cold, the deity dragging him deeper and deeper. When his chest starts to burn and the need to claw at his throat rises, the Outsider tugs once more and tears him away from the black.

"Hello, Corvo." The Outsider cocks his head at his Marked, watching him cough and sputter with curiosity.

Corvo ignores him for air, taking deep breaths. For a moment, it feels like there are two hearts in there, hammering away before they start to slow with the generous gulps of oxygen. Pushing his wet hair out of his face and blinking water away, Corvo glares at the other. "What did you do."

"I brought you back." replies the deity as he turns away to stare upwards.

It doesn't look like any part of the Void Corvo has seen before. The ground—or water—he's currently on is clear but too blue and it houses no reflection even with him sitting right on it, seeming to stretch out forever.

Below he can see dark shapes, like whales but missing the many flippers and barbels along their maws. Swimming alongside these odd whales, he can see other fishes, but none of them are making the water move. The only movements are the ripples he makes, and it dawns to him that every wavering line follows his own steady heartbeat when he tries to stay still. The Outsider, on the other hand doesn't seem to share this trait. The ripples Corvo makes bounce off where the god stands, as though he's a piece of stone that has emerged from the water or an unmoving lighthouse, subtly creating more ripples as they cross paths. He eyes the god, before moving his gaze to follow and see countless of stars littering the sky above, so many that it has Corvo staring in awe.

"Where are we."

"The Void, but there is no name for this part of it."

He continues to study the stars, finding no moon or any constellations he knows amongst the shades of dark blue. It's so beautiful that Corvo starts to worry that he won't be able to look away, so he forces himself to drop his gaze down, returning his attention back to the other. The Outsider doesn't look any different, sitting cross-legged on the water a few feet away, with skin still belonging to a drowned man and shadowed eyes, but he looks more alive and human than Corvo has ever witnessed.

Corvo thinks of the many questions he wants to ask, having a feeling that the god before him would give him a less cryptic answer for once, but chokes back the tumbling questions.

"I've never seen this part of the Void." he says instead.

The Outsider's lips quirk and his dark eyes shifting down to his Marked. "You're not supposed it."

"I take it that I'm a special guest then." Corvo's dry remark seems to make the other's smile widen.

"I brought you here because if I didn't, you would remain in there." the deity gestures to the unmoving water.

The Lord Protector resists the urge to scowl as he remembers the previous events. "So what, you were toying with me there?"

A long moment drags out for eons before the Outsider speaks, slowly as if considering his words. "I do not know what you saw in there, for you are meant to forget. Like dreams, the waters replay events crucial to oneself, nonsense to some and inspiration to others. Yours could be different, since nobody is supposed to be here and you were meant to wake on your own like last time."

"Las— you mean this isn't the first time I'm in there?" The last word is spat out, bitter with discontent from what he had been forced to endure before coming here.

"It won't be the last."

Standing up, Corvo glares down at the god, feeling anger boil quietly at the back of his mind as he grounds out, "What. Did. You. Do."

"What do you remember before waking up in the Void?"

"Don't answer my question with a question."

"What do you remember."

He snarls at this frustrating being and holds back the restless want to pace about, silently venting as he thinks back. "Leaving the bastard and his men."

"For home?"

Corvo hesitates before nodding stiffly.

The Outsider hums once, turning his gaze to the ripples. "I brought you home then."

"How?"

"Blink."

Corvo stares at him as he feels his anger burn cold through his veins when it clicks, but he's too tired to be surprised anymore. "So you possessed me?"

"One must have, before being able to give." says the Outsider as he pokes at the water, sinking in but not creating any ripples. "Would you rather if you were left unconcious with Daud's people only a Blink away?"

Growling lowly at the back of his throat, the Lord Protector folds his arms and turns away from the other. He waits until he's calm enough not to snark at the god, letting the frost melt away from his blood as he watches his own ripples. At first it seems like he's the only one causing any movement, but with further inspection there are hints of two others, their lines crisscrossing with his own.

"Why don't you affect the water?"

"Because I'm not part of your world. It acts as a representative for every life, being born and dying but only a few are able to cause the surface to shift, make changes that others cannot. Those people are special for awhile, making themselves known to the Void." A smile dances on Outsiders lips when he shifts and unexpectedly lies down on his side, observing Corvo's ripples bounce off him. "They are fascinating."

"Enough that you give them your Mark."

"Not always. Sometimes they start to shift and die away immediately. Other times they are simply bits of gravel tossed in with a pebble, part of a bigger plan. Your actions are changing an Empire, Corvo, you will either calm the sea or cause it to rise and swallow the City. They will echo your ripples whether you like it or not."

The Lord Protector considers this with a frown and nods towards the other shifting lines. "Who are they?"

The smile grows with a hint of teeth, something playful flashing in the deity's shaded eyes. "You've met them."

He thinks about Jessamine and Emily and the temptation to ask is like a wisp of smoke, but Corvo catches it before it can float out of reach. The Outsider still hears it despite how he grits his teeth. The former taps a finger against the water surface, catching the rhythm of Corvo's heartbeat. "They went out too quickly."

It's an answer he expects, so he changes the subject to something that hurts less. "How do I wake up?"

"You normally do without being prompted, but the sleep drug affected your body. Thus, I shall return you myself." The Outsider sits up, reaching out a hand to his Marked. A thoughtful look crosses his face when it is taken. "The next few minutes will be... interesting, Corvo. I'm curious of how it will play out until the curtains fall, but I'm sure you will manage, yes?"

Corvo opts for a nod instead of words and he's falling again, can't tell if he's sinking back into the water or whether the world turned upside down and he's falling towards the stars—

He wakes up to the cracked ceiling above and the familiar singing of bewitched whale bones. Purple, not blue, the witch thinks as he takes a deep breath through his nose, feeling like years have passed when it can possibly be mere minutes. There is an empty hole in his being. Something tells Corvo he's been through this process before, waking up to nothing and feeling as blank as a new sheet of paper, but he cannot put his finger on it. The rats are everywhere, covering the floor and the bed and even sleeping on the runes around him.

Corvo begins to sit up and pauses when a small lump covered in white fur nearly rolls off his chest. "Hey."

The white rat blinks at up him as he picks her up, holding her in his palms but she doesn't speak. She simply stares up at him. "Where have you been?"

 _"Away,"_ she squeaks and curls up in the warmth of his hands. _"But I'm back now."_

"How long have I been out?"

_"Two hours or so."_

It feels longer than that but Corvo knows the Void does that to time. "Did I do anything weird?"

_"Such as?"_

"Like floating or walking on walls—" Corvo is interrupted by a chorus of hissing and he doesn't catch what she says after that, for the rest of the rats wake up abruptly and scatter out of the room like it's ablaze. He instinctively looks around with Dark Vision, spotting a golden figure upstairs and slipping out the bone knife that's still covered in Daud's blood from his coat. But when he moves to get off the bed, the sharp pain running up his left leg has him freezing.

 _"Are you alright?"_ asks the rat and the answer is a quiet grunt, before she's placed into his pocket.

The sight upstairs is similar to the very picture from not too long ago, except that the whaler has been replaced with its leader, who is balancing on the balcony rails to avoid the rats. "Interesting security system." Daud remarks gruffly as Corvo Blinks into view, eyeing the small animals as they bristle and try to take a chunk out of him with every little jump. "Better than some of the hounds."

Corvo stares at him and cocks his head as Daud waits, as if he would call off the rats so that they could have a civilized chat. As amusing as it is, the risk of having Daud's patience run out and killing his swarm is out of the question so the witch taps his foot twice. The hissing stops and the rats seem confused but they follow his order, fur squeezing through cracks and pipes for another part of the house.

Daud takes this as permission to step off the rails but respectfully stays where he is. "We need to talk."

Before the master assassin can react, Corvo Blinks up to him and punches him in the nose. To his credit Daud only stumbles back a step, a hand reaching up to check the damage while Corvo watches with mild satisfaction despite the pain in his knuckles. He Blinks a good distance away.

"What do you want."

There is a pause before Daud shifts his hand sharply and fixes his nose with a crack. The assassin has a thick line of red flowing down his face, but he manages to talk clearly enough. "Why didn't you kill me."

The bodyguard doesn't bat a lash at the question, knowing that Daud would have either fled if he had half a brain or come and seek answers. Still, it doesn't mean that Corvo will give it.

"Is that's why you're here?" Corvo turns to leave and makes sure not to show his tensed stance when Daud cuts the distance between them by a few feet. Corvo tenses in response, hearing the rats hiss somewhere below his boots and in the walls. They are listening, and waiting for his call to defend their home he realizes.

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"An offer." Corvo echoes dully, arms folded and a flat look of expectation like he already knows what Daud's going to say. But he doesn't walk away or call the rats out.

Daud swipes his face with a sleeve and Corvo notes that the blood blends well enough. "I know Lady Boyle's next on your list. I have information, manpower and your injuries aren't going to help you get her."

"Who is to blame for that."

"Yourself, you were the one who came to me."

Corvo gives him a look and Daud sighs.

"I," Daud starts slowly, as if speaking to a small child, and he narrows his eyes when Corvo snorts, "am offering my service to you."

A rough chuckle bubbles up as the Lord Protector shakes his head, lips lifting in cold amusement. "Your blade?!" He spits as though the words were a curse. It might as well be. "What makes you think I want it?"

"I don't, but a smart person would accept the help."

The humorless smile drops fast and a snarl takes its place. Corvo stalks up to Daud with barely a foot away from the other. "Would you really take the help of the man who ruined you?"

"If it saves me the trouble, gladly."

"Well, I'm not you." Corvo snaps.

Daud studies him at the bitter statement, how final those words are, and finds that he appreciates anger twisting the other man's features more than the mocking cheer from before. "The party is the day after tomorrow. Whether you accept my offer or not, it doesn't matter to me."

A sharp retort is on his tongue and Corvo opens his mouth to snarl, to spit in the murderer's face and slice his throat open but then the white rat shifts in his pocket and peers up at him.

_"Guilt is a powerful emotion."_

The Lord Protector goes quiet. There is nothing he can feel off Daud when he reaches out with formless claws; while his men have walls that crack after you press hard enough, Daud has steel and a curtain veil to boot. Still, metal will rust and dent after awhile. Time rots everything, Corvo knows from experience, even hope.

When what feels like too long has passed, he turns away from the other. "Get out."

Daud notes the sudden change from aggression to emptiness, but decides not to push fate any further. He nods to Corvo's back as the slightest bow in regards.

"As you wish."

Corvo stands there for awhile longer after the man leaves, blank gaze on his boots and form unmoving even as the rats return and hiss concerns. The white rat fidgets to huddle up into a ball, tucking her head in her paws. _"Even the proudest cities crumble under their weight._ "

 

* * *

 

"So he rejected you."

Daud grunts once and proceeds to ignore Steve, who in turn continues to follow him. "Are you upset?"

He gets a narrow-eyed glance, a warning for all but the whaler has never been too bright and takes it as a 'what makes you think that' look. At least it is better than Rulfio or Ley's rant; they have a talent for hitting ground that's too soft. "Well, for the last three hours you've been walking around and shouting at the novices since Ley checked your nose and kicked you out of the infirmary. It's your way of sulking."

"I do not sulk."

"I can prove that wrong in like ten ways and—" Daud briefly wonders why hasn't he killed Steve all these years and remembers dully that he's one of the main reasons why most of the recruits don't always die on their first mission. Plus, his good humor helps smooth off any sharp edges in their band before someone gets too rowdy.

However, the master assassin does not find the current observation necessary as he walks into his office and shuts the doors in Steve's face.

Right now, he just wants to sleep for the whole day. Daud hasn't rested since the first letter from Burrows about Campbell's death, hasn't allowed himself to rest even when the link between the people's disappearance formed enough to guess the culprit. Of course, he has never told Burrows, never sent a reply to the growing pile of letters he uses to fuel the fireplace.

He's not sulking. Like Void, is he sulking just because the Lord Protector rejected his offer—

Then again Thomas, who had listened when Ley asked how Daud's visit went, did say that while Corvo didn't accept the offer, he also didn't outright reject it.

Perhaps the man needs time, Kieron had added his two cents from somewhere next to Thomas but Daud understands that being ignored is a method of rejecting.

He's not really surprised, therefore isn't sulking.

Only when Daud turns to transverse to his loft, does he notice the person sitting on his desk who is reading what appears to be his journal.

"Corvo." The said man doesn't look up from the book but his head does shift in his direction. Daud squints at him and resists the urge to transverse over to snatch it away. Now that he thinks about it, the book that floated was most likely his journal since he had been writing in it before the fight. The damned black-eyed bastard knew Corvo would have come and most likely left the book there for him, which meant that the dream was real...?

Damn him, Daud didn't have the time or energy to think about that. "What are you doing here."

"Lady Boyle." Corvo closes the book and puts it down, slipping off the table. If his ankle hurts from taking weight, he doesn't show it. Instead, the bodyguard crosses his arms and glares coolly at Daud. "Show me what you have planned."

Again Daud tells himself that he does not sulk; but the weight on his shoulders do lighten up by the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my sister for their time and rage to beta this work and listen to my bullshit, and motivation from trash bud Taywen. I'm serious about the potatoes. 
> 
> The scene with the Outsider and looking glass place was inspired by Fjarlægur, a voiceless song made of music boxes, typewriters, cameras and more by Oskar Schuster. Can't seem to link up the vid so imma just put it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFqy56mmAhc


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know that chapter with a lot of sexual tension? This is one of them.
> 
> Beta-ed by my Frisk.

_"My men have scouted the place long ago. Residents of the Estate District always need someone to disappear and the Boyles are just one of them." Daud leaned over the map, fingers tracing over the lines of ink and hastily scrawled markings. "There are two ways in that are socially acceptable once we blend in with the guests, one facing the courtyard with a guard who will check the invitations and another facing the guardhouse. The main entrance is the latter while the other door is in the garden."_

_Corvo nodded to the other section of the map. "There's a balcony on the second floor open to Blink, straight to their rooms."_

 

* * *

 

Daud crouched on the rooftops, listening to the distant coughing of weepers and ignored the fireworks overhead. From their vantage point, the Watch patrols were easy to spot out and the Tall boys out of range unless they looked up. There were a number of Watch City below, but Daud had eyes for the single man on the balcony. With a frown, he throw a glance over his shoulder. "One man."

Corvo looked up, turning away from watching the canal below. Daud briefly wondered if he saw something or was simply buying his time from speaking to him.

The bodyguard Blinked next to him, bringing the scent of the Void, blood and the barest hint of flowers—the last bit startled Daud—crouched and leaning over a knee to stare down.

 

* * *

 

 _"And a guard watching it. My scouts reported that Burrows has commissioned more security to the party tonight, the guards patrolling upstairs have permission to throw any wanderers out and we don't know how many there are."_  
_Corvo's lips twisted into a frown as he inspected the map. "Nothing I can't handle."_

_I. A singular pronoun._

_The man expected to do most of the job, not surprising since he had been doing so until now but Daud knew from experience that it needed to be addressed. A wolf acting out on its own from the pack would only get them in trouble, it was either teaching it where the line is or putting it down, even if this wolf was biting every hand that came too close._

_"We." He paused to empathized the word. "We can handle a few guards, but I rather not have the whole building and reinforcements after our asses." Blowing air through his nose, Daud tugged back irritation from his voice and tried for firm and authority instead. "If we alert them, the target will escape."_

_"She won't."_

 

* * *

 

It would be easy, Daud could summon an assassin behind the guard and knock him out to allow them to transverse down unseen but Corvo shook his head; gesturing downwards to the guardhouse. He didn't wait for Daud to follow, walking over to the edge and dropping down to the open window on its third floor. With a grumble, the master assassin followed.

Fortunately for them, the building seemed vacated, the residents presumably busy in the party grounds. The master assassin found the other snatching up whatever was in sight, coins, rewiring tool and an apricot tart from the table. If Corvo was one of his men, Daud would have gone in a full out lecture but he wasn't so he briskly walked past the other in favor for the only door in the room. The handle jingled and didn't give way. "Locked."

The bodyguard grunted as he lifted up his grotesque mask to take a bite of the tart, holding out a key to Daud.

Glaring and without a word, the older man snatched it from him and unlocked the door before starting down the stairs with caution. He didn't bother to look back to see if Corvo followed, ears picking up the near silent footfalls and munching behind. They paused at the bottom, stacks of boxes at the side and the door leading out.

"Three guards, closest right outside. There's also an alarm machine on our left. They won't bother us so long as we blend in." Daud said and placed a hand on the doorknob, glancing back at the other. "Ready?"

 

* * *

 

_Daud decided to change the subject, tapping to the smaller map at the side. "Going by the guardhouse will have us approaching the Boyle mansion from the front, where there hopefully won't be a check on identity considering that they have one at the yard. If there is, I have the key for the door; just distract the guard." And at the skeptical gaze Corvo directed at him, he added. "Lord Boyle didn't die of natural causes. It's not my fault that they forgot to ask for the key back."_

_"I didn't ask."_

_"Then don't stare."_

 

* * *

 

It was odd, having the City Watch look at them with the usual anger, horror or fear absent. Corvo made a beeline to the doors of the manor but Daud tugged him back with a firm hold on his arm.

"Nobles don't rush." He hissed, words muffled slightly by the whaler mask he donned for this. The younger man's shoulders grew tense, pulling away from Daud's grip but slowed to a stop.

"Then what do you want to do?" Corvo growled lowly and twisted around to face Daud. "Stand around and waste my time?"

"Better than looking like I'm ready to slaughter everyone in the party." The master assassin shot back evenly, before taking a step back when he realized that their proximity was much too close.

Nobility have been taught to keep their distance, standing too close in a conversation would implied a relationship outside acquaintances or friends. At worst, people who noticed would assume marriage or for their case, scandal which was befitting considering who they were. Corvo however, either didn't know or care and Daud suspected it was the latter.

"It was fun at first, but now it's just plain boring. Wish they spiced things up but at least there's a good prize, the Boyle Cameo."

A guard called out a greeting as a pair of nobles slowly walked up towards them, deep in gossip and diving for more. The man with her hand tapping the side of his mask. "I heard that there's a easy way to find out which is which, but the second floor's off limits this time. Pity, Adam and I had extra pockets sewed on."

"Well, that's not much of a lost. The first floor has plenty—oh my!"

The master assassin tensed up and his hand shifted to his sword, but then the noblewoman stopped in front of Corvo and cooed. "That's wicked. Who made that mask for you? It looks exactly like the one on the wanted posters."

Corvo said nothing, giving her a nod and heavy silence as his answer.

While she hummed in approval, the nobleman beside her gave Corvo a once over. "I don't know, it's good but I think they added too many wires." then shifted his gaze over to Daud. "Yours on the other hand, it looks perfect. The mask you could find anywhere but whoever tailored that uniform is good, and I've seen the man himself."

Daud mentally added to find out who this man was later.

"The Masked Felon and the Knife of Dunwall, together in a Boyle party!" Exclaimed the lady and her companion nodded in agreement, getting glances from the guards nearby. "What a scandal, and everyone loves scandals. I know I do."

With a huffy chuckle, the nobleman turned to the other. "That's going to cast a pall for the whole night. I'm starting to enjoy myself and speaking of scandals, how is your brother?"

"He's fine," she answered before continuing with a joking undertone, "and it's nothing compared to what you did with that maid."

Taking this chance to escape, Daud nudged the other towards the door urgently and felt relief wash over him when Corvo walked up the stairs without question. The guard by the entrance seemed to have been listening in, cringing when they stopped in front of him and he quickly grabbed the door handle. "Allow me."

The two Serkonans shared a glance, before Corvo nodded and they stepped into the Boyle mansion.

 

* * *

_"_

_Upon entering, we will be in the foyer facing the main stairway to the second floor. There's another smaller staircase at the back for the servants, leading up to Esma Boyle's room." Daud took a pen and started circling at the base of the main stairs. "They setted up a wall of light and an alarm system in front of the main stairs, their generators should in a closet on the left. If we need to go upstairs, our best bet is going through the servant stairwell."_

_"And the target?"_

_"What about."_

_Corvo seemed to hesitate, crossing his arms. "There are three sisters, hosting a costume party, and I do not know which is the target."_

_"Really, bodyguard? Your associates didn't inform you who you're supposed to murder tomorrow night?"_

_"They were in a hurry." Growled out the witch and Daud could hear the bitter resent in it._

_"So much that they couldn't be bothered to make your work easier. Great." Daud huffed, finding it hard to blame the other. "I'll see what I can do, but don't expect much from such a tight schedule."_

 

* * *

 

The air felt light with a buzzing undercurrent, murmurs and laughter and a violin playing in the background. Everything looked too pleasant, as if they were trying to block out the fact that everyone else outside were falling to the plague as the guests drank wine and chattered.

A frown set itself on Daud's face—not that anyone saw—as confetti fell with quiet bang from above. While he never gave aristocrats a thought outside whether they could pay him or not, he had to admit that the Boyles knew how to show off their coin. Either way, it was not his business so he quickly focused on the task at hand. There were more guards than they had anticipated, along with guests and overseers. He gritted his teeth at the sight of music boxes, counting at least three in the foyer with them. The bastard Burrows practically sent the Boyles a small army against heretics.

Daud turned around to speak to his companion, only to find Corvo gone from his side and standing in front of the small table by the door instead. He swiftly walked over and saw the other set down the fountain pen. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Like you said." Corvo replied with no bite, only a serene calmness that hinted mockery. "I'm blending in."

The older man grabbed the book and read the list of names, find a neatly written Corvo Attano in cursive at the bottom. "You just signed the guest list."

"If anyone asks, we will direct them here."

"You left your name." Anger was on a tighter leash than Daud ever had to set on, snapping at the chains and snarling at the cage. From the corner of his eye, an overseer nearby was looking in their direction so Daud snagged Corvo by the wrist and physically dragged him to the room to their right. Thankfully it wasn't as crowded or open as the foyer was, only a maid and a group of partygoers at the other side. "Evidence that the Royal Protector was here, Corvo. You're going to get us killed."

"Maybe I _want_ to leave my mark." Corvo said in that same infuriating tone, head tilting to the side slightly. "Let them know I live so they will stop sleeping well, knowing I'm still here."

"And kill yourself in the process. Excellent strategy, bodyguard." Daud bit out, feeling anger dent the cage. "If that was your plan, you should have just jumped into the Serpentine earlier or asked the tallboys for a fucking kiss."

Corvo didn't answer and Daud felt his anger turn cold, pushed aside to make room for realization of his words. The man was not one of his whalers, he was the former Lord Protector and Daud had as much authority over him as sailors had over the sea. The waters were endless and beautiful and cruel, and for his case, constantly raging in a storm.

He waited for Corvo to react, for him to draw his blade and for the sea to swallow the ship.

 

* * *

 

_"_ _And this?" Corvo pointed to an arrow drawn in red ink and tiny words above it._

_"A basement door leading to the canal, they use it to bring in cargo and sneak out. I suggest against it, unless you want to take a dip with the hagfish." The Lord Protector shot him an unimpressed look and Daud huffed. "But yes, it could be useful for a quick runaway if need be."_

_The witch gave a sharp nod, before glaring down at the map as if trying to set it aflame with his gaze alone._

_"Simple in theory, unpredictable in practice. Be ready to improvise if things don't go according to plan."_

_Corvo grunted in acknowledgment, but didn't offer anything else._

_"We're going to be working together, Corvo. I know we're going to fight but the least we can do is keep it to a minimum during the mission." Daud said after a long moment, scowling at the other but the annoyance fell out of his voice as he went on. "You don't have to be the one-man army they are expecting."_

_"How do I know that you're not going to stab me in the back."_

_"You don't but if it comforts you, I only do it after I get the coin."_

_"I'm not paying you." Corvo said as a matter of fact, but the tension in his shoulder started to bleed away._

_Daud nodded. Coin wasn't fueling this mission and even if Corvo offered, he wouldn't take it. "I know."_

 

* * *

 

To his surprise, the bodyguard didn't do what he expected. Instead, Corvo simply shifted away slightly—when was he so close—as a guard patrolled too close to the little shadowed spare of theirs.

Daud cleared his throat and looked away, staring out of the frosted windows beside them, at anything that wasn't the other.

Neither of them knew how to edge around situations like this, Daud normally used to not having this problem while Corvo let his silence speak in volumes. In the end, the younger broke the quiet first.

"We should mingle. Gossip is like water to nobility, someone is bound to know which is which." the witch let out a quiet sigh, leaning out of the curtains that hid them in the shadows. "That guard walked past us for the fourth time. He's thinking of reporting us for suspicious behaviour or brushing it off as two unusual men hiding from their wives to have a thrilling affair."

Daud stared at him."Excuse me?"

The mentioned Watch officer strolled past, slowed when he neared the curtained enclave before hurrying away when he noticed Corvo watching. "Fifth time."

The master assassin felt torn between being grateful and awkwardly apologetic. "Yes, that's for the best. Perhaps we won't need to go upstairs at all to find out, considering how these people tend to run their mouths."

Nodding, Corvo threw a glance to the foyer. The guard was still looking their way, speaking to an officer. The latter then started for their direction and Corvo grinted his teeth and hissed.

"What are—"

"Shut up." the Lord Protector cut him off, stepping closer than they were previously while his hands reached up to Daud's collar. With a rough tug, he brought the other forward, enough for the scent of warmth, aftershave and the barest hint of stale copper to fill his air. Snorting softly, Corvo turned his head away from the curtain's opening, bumping his mask against Daud's and trying not to think about how the assassin smelt of something dark that was washed off in vain. As bewildered as he was, Daud shook off enough shock to follow Corvo's example when the heavy shuffles of the Watch officer reached his ears. He placed a hand on Corvo's hip, feeling the form tense under it despite the light touch. His free hand rested on his sword which the shadows hid from sight, drawing it out slightly. He could easily bend time and allow them to escape this situation, but the abrupt disappearing act would call suspicion.

The master assassin hesitated, brought by years of absence in such proximity that left him flailing in the dark, before gingerly dropping his chin on Corvo's shoulder. As expected, he felt the younger man tense, then surprisingly, relaxed.

He told himself to think nothing of it; it was just a job.

Later, he realized that the moment wasn't as bad as the other rare times he experienced in the past, even when Corvo's hands left his collar to curl around his neck.

They held each other in a mockery of intimacy, listening to the brash footsteps pause halfway and turn back, grumbling about noblemen and their antics. Between the two of them, Daud pulled away first; nagged by the discomfort from their distance. It had been years since he allowed someone so close, irritated by the unwanted thoughts that often dwelled when such warmth existed with him. Yes, Daud was still human and permitted himself to enjoy the comfort of another's warmth; and no, he allowed this for a few heartbeats before he dragged himself away. This was a job. "They will find another reason to throw us out if we don't move.

"Then move." Corvo replied, sparing a glance to the guardsmen. He didn't seem affected by their act nor by Daud's sudden retreat, even going so far as to tug the assassin's ruffled collar back into something more presentable. "It's not like I'm stopping you."

He wasn't, but Daud didn't feel inclined to leave just yet. "My contacts spoke of a woman by the name Adelle White. She has information regarding the Boyles."

"Anything else?"

Daud paused, going through what he mentally filed away for this mission but nothing special came up. An itch at the back of his head however, told him he was forgetting something important; tip of his tongue yet nothing poured forth so he opted for words of wisdom. "Don't fuck up."

"Speak for yourself."

The Lord Protector started towards the foyer confidently, indifferent to the growled warning from a guardsman when he snatched a passing noble's pouch. Daud watched him move with an animal grace: silent, determined and dangerous. As he did, he also noticed the puff of white peeking out from the royal blue of Corvo's coat while he slipped the stolen coin in.

It blinked at him, whiskers twitching and bright dark eyes before slipping back into the bodyguard's pocket.

 

* * *

 

_"They dine in crystal lights and laughter. They are thankful for the masks, it lets them put aside their usual mask that was born from practice in the spotlight."_

Corvo brushed past the partygoers with ease, lingering around groups to eavesdrop and jump to the next but so far he only learnt things he already knew. The guards had turned their attention elsewhere after the act with Daud, but the Overseers had yet to dismiss him; golden masks in angry frowns following his move.

At least they hadn't done anything, such as start up the music boxes they carried.

"Do you know?" He murmured when one of the Boyles dressed in black entered the room he was in, the possible target blissfully unaware of the threat residing a few feet away. The weight in his breast pocket shifted as she took a peek, ears twitching at the chatter around them.

 _"She takes note of small details, counting heads of her guest and of the guards."_ The white rat said, curling up into a ball. _"Despite the potions her wealth provides, she still dreams of blood running down every face she meets, on her sister and in the mirror."_

"I don't know who that is." Corvo replied in quiet honesty. Lord Boyle used to converse with Jessamine often before his death, but the former Lord Protector never took note of the antics the sisters had during their small talk at parties. He remembered Burrows speaking highly of one of the sisters but the lines were too blurry to cross. "Anything else?"

The rat shuffles slightly to take another peek at the guest, chirping when the Boyle sister in black walked out of the room. Corvo waited a few seconds before he followed her out, spotting all three sisters in the wide corridor that led to the banquet table at the end.

_"Tonight she sleeps a noble lady, tomorrow she wakes an Empress."_

He ignored the surge of annoyance — all three of them just had to here at the same time — and turned on his heel to his left, mostly to be sure that his self-control wouldn't snap and have him just walk up and shoot all the Boyles. To be honest, Corvo didn't mind doing so if it meant he could finish and leave. There was a constant tug at his heartstrings, the air of the party and fancy music unearthing a need to throw a look of scrutiny around; expecting to see a fair face and neatly pinned hair amongst the crowd.

Six months and still grieving, the longing thought brought a smile that was more of a grimace. The bodyguard snatched the purse off a passing guest, turning into a small room and closing the door behind himself to find Daud and a noblewoman.

"Can't you just tell me?" growled the assassin, a threat barely concealed in tone but it was enough to avoid the attention of the nearby maid. The noble, wearing the enlarged features of a moth, was not fazed.

"I think one favor is more than enough, don't you think?" She gave him a dismissive wave when Daud made to grab something. Corvo guessed it was his sword or coin. "I've got enough coin to worry about, nevermind yours."

Exasperation seemed to radiate from Daud and Corvo debated on interfering before the older man said something foolish or simply watching him struggle with the guest. Before he could decide, the woman noticed him.

"I take it that you're here for hints too." She cooed as she looked Corvo up and down, gesturing to Daud with a sigh. "But I'm really thirsty right now, after talking to the gentleman here. Could you grab me a drink from the fountain please?"

Corvo turned away from who he assumed as the Adelle White Daud mentioned earlier and left the door he came. If playing waiter was all he needed to do, he rather leave the interrogating to Daud.

_"The parties bore her. Gossip here is yesterday's news to her, but tonight she knows things will be different."_

The Lord Protector picked up a glass and filled it with cinder, ignoring the murmurs around and the stares of the Overseers nearby. As he did, he absentmindedly plucked a piece of grape from the fruit platter to drop into his pocket for the rat. A tiny squeak of cheer answered him and Corvo gently brushed aside the bubbling endearment to watch a nearby guest choke and sputter from trying to drink through his colorful mask.

The sight brought the amusing mental imagine of Daud attempting to do the same. Despite the nonsensical of it, Corvo found himself filling another glass before walking back.

"Come now, where's the fun in that? Give me a clue and I'll give one back." Miss White prompted with a playful ring in her words, cocking her head at Daud. "I promise I won't tell."

Daud's stance was rigid enough that it surprised Corvo that the older man's spine hadn't snapped yet. The witch didn't comment on the barely visible slump Daud's shoulders at his return, brushing off the other's relief to hold out the drink to Miss White.

"Thanks," she nodded but didn't take a sip, taking a moment to inspect Corvo's uniform. "That mask is simply delightful, by the way. It will be the talk of the town; let's just hope nobody finds your name and spoils the fun."

Corvo answered with a half shrug, thrusting the other drink in Daud's direction without looking away. After a moment of hesitantion, a gloved hand brushed his as it gingerly took the glass, allowing Corvo to cross his now free arms. "Lady Boyle."

"So you do talk." Miss White said with a jesting grin in her voice, before setting her untouched drink on the table next to her. "Well, since you've been such a kind sir, I'll share with what I know. Esma's in red tonight. The woman's hoping to be vibrant enough to lure another poor soul into her bed – "

"Adelle, my dear friend!" An excited, drunken slur came from behind Corvo and he stepped aside in time for the Boyle in red to launch herself at Miss White. Esma curled her arms around the other's neck, pressing the vague sculptured face for a mask against the moth headdress. "You're not supposed to tell anyone. How are we going to play now?"

Miss White didn't react to the Boyle's sudden proximity, indifferently shifting away to pick up her cinder. "Try actually making things fun. I liked it better when you hired those performers from the other Isles."

"Oh yes, I remember." Esma hummed in thought, still heavily resting against her friend with a grin audible in her words. "They were _hot_."

A sigh of light annoyance left Adelle. "Oh, please."

Corvo turned away from the women, losing interest in the subject and frowned when Daud held out the glass he had been given.

"I don't drink."

Admittedly, Corvo was a little disappointed but nevertheless expected it.

Without a word, the Lord Protector took the cinder and proceeded to lift his mask just enough to reveal his mouth. He didn't bother with the abrupt absence of chatter, knocking back half of the drink and licked his lips at the hazy warmth blooming in his chest. Dropping the mask back down, Corvo raised an unseen brow at the women who had paused in their conversation to stare.

"Nice jaw," Miss White remarked with genuine interest. "I know a few people willing to kill for one like yours, and the scars give a good touch."

Esma glanced between Daud and Corvo, before leaning back to whisper loudly enough. "How do you feel about a foursome?"

In an unspoken agreement, the two Serkonans left the room. Information was one thing, but this was something Corvo wouldn't want to touch with a ten-foot long pole. He heard Daud's soft footfalls following him, along with Esma's cheerful promise to find them later. They passed the buffet table, Corvo pausing to snatch things from the fruit platter as Daud led them to the door. The outside air was crisp and perfumed with the rose bushes that grew in the Boyle garden, enough to cover up the scent of death that hid in the district.

"Two left. We can each lure one away, then take care of the last one." He said to Daud as the other man closed the doors behind them, spotting a man in an unusual wolf mask with two guards lingering further in the gardens. For a brief moment, Corvo recalled the gardens of Dunwall Tower and the pavilion, along with the rumors that Burrows made a number of improvements to the place.

Were the graves still there or has Burrows completely demolished what little was left of the late Empress and her daughter?

"Or we could find out which is the actual target instead of killing all of them."

Scoffing, Corvo glared at the other while his hands busied with peeling the orange he had taken from the banquet table. "Lost your touch? Or are you afraid of spilling some blood?"

"I'm being strategic. The Boyles know how to hold a grudge and how to find the people for the job." Daud growled defensively as he started down the steps, heading away from the doors to the manor and away from the wolf-masked guest.

"That's why I said we will take care of the last one."

"And alert every guard in Estate District? If you haven't noticed, Corvo, the Lord Regent deems this party important enough to send a small army and reinforcements in an hour's time."

Corvo dug his fingers into the soft flesh of the citrus fruit and tore out a small chuck with more force than necessary, irritation dripping through the cracks at Daud's dry statement. "We will be done before anyone notices."

"What do you want to do, burn down the whole building?"

"Not this one." The bodyguard replied indifferently, earning a raised eyebrow from Daud. Ignoring the look, Corvo pulled out the piece of orange into his pocket and held it to the rodent. The white rat sniffed it once, before turning her nose away so he shrugged and pushed the mask up again to plopped the fruit into his mouth. If Daud had any thoughts regarding the rodent or Corvo's lack of secrecy, he didn't comment even as Corvo changed the subject. "Second floor?"

"Later. White promised two hints, she still owes us one." Despite Daud's words, he didn't seemed too eager to go back into the party. Corvo didn't care, opting to finish the orange he took when they both tensed at the arrival of the man wearing the wolf mask.

"Evening, gentlemen." The guest greeted curtly, faint annoyance coloring his tone as he eyed Corvo. "Are you the one Trevor sent in his place?"

The memory of Lord Pendleton was distant and blurred around the edges, but Corvo could faintly remember the nobleman mentioning a favor to send a letter to a 'Lord Shaw'. Unfortunately for Pendleton, Corvo spent the previous day making a plan with Daud and forgotten to visit the Hound Pits before setting off. "He isn't coming."

"Hm. Disappointing." Lord Shaw grunted in discontent and the two guards fidgeted behind him. "I was hoping to see if his marksmanship had improved, man can't shoot straight to save his own life. To think I've been waiting outside here for nearly an hour." He muttered under his breath, before sighing, "Is he too busy sucking his thumb to leave the house?"

Corvo pondered on a reasonable excuse, but stopped himself. It wasn't worth the effort so he settled for a short: "So you know."

The reply earned him a short chuckle from the noble, who then took out a small bag from his coat and held it to Corvo.

"For your troubles," he explained causally when the bodyguard didn't accept the offered bag. "If you would, do inform Trevor that I haven't forgotten that remark in parliament."

"I'm not a messenger boy." the Lord Protector said but took the bag, the dense weight of coin sitting nicely in his palm.

"Nice party, ain't it." Lord Shaw stated and turned away, leaving them alone once again.

"You know the Pendleton heir?" Daud asked quietly as they started for the door, shooting Lord Shaw's retreating figure a look of distrust.

"Not much of an heir, considering that there's not much left to claim." Corvo answered while pocketing the coin away. He reached out to the door handle and frowned when Daud to grabbed it first but made no move to open it. "What is it, old man? You said you wanted to find White."

"No killing." Daud bluntly stated and opened the door for him, voice dropping a tone deeper into a rough grumble. "And I'm only three years older than you."

Corvo threw a glance back over his shoulder, although Daud was not sure if he could actually see anything with that unnerving mask in the way. "That is old."

"Stop talking to yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should change my name to Never Enough Thanks because thank you all for liking this trash.
> 
> I got lazy and stopped doing things. School, work and just life in general tend to use inspiration as the base of a snowman so forgive me. I also found myself in Undertale hell and is probably not going to get up anytime soon. Oh and I tried a new style just for this chapter as you see above, hope it's alright. Lemme know in the comments thank you UwU
> 
> DOES THIS QUENCH YOUR THIRST GREVONRAEUS?? DOES IT??????


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISHONORED 2 is coming. 
> 
> Yes.

_This wasn't supposed to happen._  

A mass of bodies, fine cuts and silk moving to the music and blocking the way. He could barely make out the dull coat of blue amongst the noble folk, drifting further away with a Boyle in white. It was an excellent opportunity, everyone's attention fixed on the dance while he got close enough to the target. Adelle White seemed proud of herself, having coaxed some of the guards and even a few Overseers into the waltz.  

Daud himself would had been slightly impressed too, if it weren't for the fact that they too had been dragged into the dance the moment they stepped back inside. It was his fault, the little fact that refused to be remembered earlier had finally resurfaced when they entered, that Thomas had paid White extra to start a distraction so they could move unnoticed. He bit back a sigh, perhaps he really was getting old. 

Even so, there was nothing they could do but join in; insistingly avoiding the event would only catch the guards' eye and all White's work would be for naught. 

At the corner of his eye, Daud spied the lady in lily white still as Corvo's parther, dark fabric of his Protector coat contrasting stark against her white costume and Daud couldn’t help but watch them sway. 

The only flaw with partaking the dance was that they were _too_ close. He waited for a flash of metal in the other's hand, the Boyle staggering as the blade slid into her chest and the sea of people scattering in panic. He wouldn't be surprised, considering Corvo's straightforwardness – the idiot was likely to stab all three of the Boyles if close enough –  and need to hurry the job. 

The blade never came and the Boyle in white continued to waltz with her potential murderer.  

"-re you even listening?" Daud glanced down at the partygoer in front of him, anger colouring her whine at finally realizing that he had been ignoring her for the whole dance, a skill mastered from years of not caring. He was torn between being disgruntled at missing out any possible useful info the lady let loose and patting himself on the back since the former was unlikely. Thankfully the singing violin playing from the speakers above had came to an end, allowing them a moment to escape. The assassin gave a gruff apology as he shrugged her off, quickly making his way from the crowd as casually as one could.  

The Boyle in white had led Corvo to a room housing a grand piano and harp, the latter's hand subtlety shifting towards where he kept his folded sword. Daud gritted his teeth, his own hand hovering over a pocket of choking dust when something grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. 

"Fancy bumping into you, handsome." purred Esma as she scooted closer, practically pressing herself against him while clawing at his uniform. "Heading somewhere?" 

"Yes, actually," he said with a grimace while leaning away, carefully catching her wrists before her hands wandered anywhere further, "so if you don't mind." 

Esma didn't let up, one of her hands somehow slipping from his hold to drunkenly draw misshapen circles on his chest. "Don't you want some alone time with your dear, lovely host?" 

Granted, being in a secluded room with only the target would be a perfect hit. They would make it quick and clean and be out of the window before anyone noticed, but Daud didn't want to be anywhere near her if it involved a bed and little to no clothing. Furthermore, Burrows was the type of man who would like someone like Waverly, they were fitting in a sense; paranoia bred more paranoia and Esma’s... friendliness with guests, guards and servants in the picture with the tyrant was unlikely.  

"Come on, we can even invite your friend over there to join in the fun." she cooed as she dragged him aside, towards the servant stairwell. Daud paused at her offer, either out of surprise or horror or a mix of both, before putting his heel down. 

“It’s not like that.” 

“He has a rather pleasant physique.” 

"He?" Daud raised a brow, mind racing for a bullshit way out of this conversation. Lydia Boyle was standing awfully close to Corvo, who was seated in front of a large harp. He didn't know the Lord Protector could play. “What makes you think it's him?” 

“Because I would know if you were looking at my sister.” came clipped words behind audible smile, coated with a hint of something close to resentment. He didn’t know if it was from jealousy of a woman or the protective bond of siblings.

_"They will hold a grudge," Corvo informed him when they came to the subject of the target's fate, as though they were discussing dinner, "one disappears, the ones left will do what they can to find them. We take out all three."_

_Daud breathed out slowly through his nose, calm and edging away from irritation. A headache was looming but he had cultivated a skill in handling rowdy trainees, this was nothing. "You do realise the Boyles are one of the powerhouses still alive in Dunwall."_

_"They won't need long for another to take their place."_

_"The Boyles and self-preservation get along well, family's simply a title to them. They're smarter than that."_

_"Just a title? Sure." Daud opened his mouth to reply but Corvo cut him off, toneless and infuriatingly calm, "They won't do it. They will get others to. The remaining sisters will find you - might take them years to act but they will destroy what they can get their hands on and from there, they will find me."_

_"Didn't know you cared." Daud replied dryly, meaningless death never went well in his books. Hiram Burrows and a few others were perfect examples._

_"I don't. We do three."_

_Daud didn't answer, opting to change the subject and made a point not to bring it up again._

"I have to politely decline your offer." he finally gritted out, sounding so cold even to his ears that he half-expected frost to trail his words. Esma didn't seemed deterred, still clinging onto his arm closely. From the corner of his mask, Daud frowned at the watchful gaze from the nearby Overseer. A guard was already making his way to them from his position by the stairwell. So much for subtlety. 

"Pardon, Lady Boyle but is this man bothering you?" 

"Oh no, no, we're fine." Esma said with bell laughter in her voice, waving the guard away with a gloved hand. He nodded but neither budged nor dropped the dirty look aimed at Daud. Not that the assassin cared, he looked at his coffee that way every morning. "He's not a bother at all." 

"It's the other way round actually." Daud injected. 

"It's fine," Esma repeated before starting towards the stairs, dragging her prey along. "How about you check the basement instead, hm? I'm sure the maids could use the company of a handsome soldier such as yourself." 

The guard flushed, mumbling an affirmative and turned away. Esma simply giggled, a soft gentle noise that seemed too perfect and innocent that it sounded false, as she released his arm and made her way upstairs.  

Daud took note that she didn't bother looking back to see if he followed. Admittedly, he was tempted to simply bend time, transverse away and blame alcohol on any delusions that he was seen anywhere near Esma Boyle's bedroom. 

Then he saw Corvo standing near the entrance of the stairwells. 

The Masked Felon gave the slightest shake of his head, a hand resting over where his folded blade was and the other in a subtle motion.  

 _Go._  

It would had been so easy, focus and flaring mark and time would stop breathing long enough for him to leave. Corvo could deal with this himself, no doubt walking away from the mansion in blood. Forget the offer to help or the guilt on his shoulders, the younger man did not need his assistance. 

Movement. A flash of gold and fading blue. Corvo shifted away from him to face an Overseer who had approached him, free hand hidden at an angle from the priest's view moving in the same stiff motion. 

 ** _Go._**  

Daud turned, scowl curling his lips and boots silent despite the urge to stomp into the seductress' liar. 

"Oh, there you are," Esma piped as she looked up from her dresser, words soft with surprise behind her mask that the assassin nearly missed. He didn't reply, unsure whether to keep her distracted until Corvo comes or leave while he still could. "I almost believed that you ran away." 

"Could you blame me for not wanting to be caught in bed with a lady of the house?" 

"Maybe if you were more outgoing," Boyle replied with a teasing undertone, missing the slur of alcohol on her tongue, taking a seat on her bedside. She leaned back sensually, a hand slowly trailing down her hip to her lap "Though I certainly wouldn't blame you for wanting to be in someone else's bed."  

"You're not drunk." 

"I sober up fast." Esma lied through her teeth and patted the space beside her. 

Daud stayed where he was and narrowed his eyes. 

"Huh. You're as quiet as your gentleman friend. I was planning to do less chatter and more carnal activities but I guess I've enough words for the both of us." Esma chuckled as she started pulling off her gloves. Daud took the opportunity to tug his own, glancing down to check the hint of green at his wristbow. 

The assassin should shoot her, put her in bed and search the room for evidence. Waverly's room wasn't too far away but he didn't know if the paranoid woman would follow him to her room as easily as Esma did. Either way, he needed to confirm the target. 

He shifted his gaze over to the balcony – the guard should still be sleeping if Thomas was correct – when he noticed the large painting beside it, hiding in the shadow casted by an antique wardrobe. Hiram Burrows stared back coldly over his crooked nose, rigid stance and dressed in what Daud assumed to be his new wear as ruler. Still high and mighty despite not being in person, Daud felt the painting would look much better with a handful of bolts in the face. 

 _The Spymaster's Axis of Asymmetry._  

"That old thing? Pay no mind to it," Esma spoke up, startling Daud slightly as he realized he read the gold-plated title out loud. "It was a gift from the man himself, although I've been planning to burn it." 

"Why?" 

She sighed heavily, as though the thought of the art piece pained her, and crossed her arms. There was a quiet, distant sound of metal and shuffling elsewhere, Daud ignored the noises to focus on Boyle's explanation. "The bastard's helpful for the money and support my family needs during these times at first, but no better than a leech now." She added under her breath, disgust coloring her tone, "plus, he's a terrible lay." 

'If my family didn't need him, I would be no where near him' Daud heard under her words, feeling his resolve drop and his hand unconsciously drifted towards his sword. He noticed and stopped himself. He could knock her out, take her away from the manor but then what? Sending her off in a ship to the other Isles would not be impossible, but a hassle with the barricades and she could always return too soon. Paying her for silence was out of the question and while there was always space in the prison of the Flooded District, you didn't just hide a living noblewoman there without a search; especially when she was the future Empress the day tomorrow. 

His sword felt heavy on his hip and gloves tacky with red that wasn't there anymore – not right now at least, the master assassin wondered how far he had let himself slip. 

If he was a simple man, he would blame it on that one contract. 

But he wasn't. Daud knew better. He had built a tower on the bones of his victims and a throne on top, guilt lining his kingdom in cracks that he never paid heed to and it took the blood of an Empress for it to sink in. Now, he was simply left to pick up the pieces. 

Clenching his fist, Daud turned away from Lady Boyle. He would go down and tell Corvo to find another way, that he did recon and there were at least guards upstairs then... then they will figure it out from there. 

"Anyway, I'm looking for a real man, nothing like that weasel and you seem like the type who likes a challenge." said Esma as she stood up, sliding up to him in a fluid move, circling her arms around his neck and he felt a hand tug at the whaler mask but she didn't try to pull it off. "I'm sure you could come up with something." 

"I agree." 

Esma let out startled gasp and ripped herself away from him to face the source of the voice while Daud resisted the urge draw his blade. Part of him was surprised that Boyle didn't start screaming at the sight, Corvo standing in the doorway with red dripping off his sword and staining the blue of his coat and that leering mask. Daud could see a couple of guard - what was left of them, dead from the growing puddle of blood under them, carelessly tossed on the corridor floor behind and for the first time in years, he felt fear crawling down his spine as he watched the former Lord Protector nonchalantly reload his pistol without taking his gaze off them. 

"Tell us what you have in mind, Daud." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am trash. Very busy trash with school and a butt load of projects (fallout new vegas should get a metal for distraction 2016) but thank y'all for waiting. You are all precious readers and thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos, it really helped me get back into writing (spam me to write please i need reminders because i tend to be like eh and waste hours doing nothing) <3
> 
> Next chapter, Corvo's POV, more Martin, our favorite whale god and sass.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about more martin he will come back ltr i'm sorry

It had been too long, strings old and unfamiliar under his fingers but the judging gaze on him refused to move. Lydia had caught him for a conversation, asking if he knew music. He gave a vague affirmative and she mentioned that they had brought down an old harpsichord from the attic after a guest damaged the piano. Corvo found himself strumming the antique strings gently at first, letting his hand glide along while forcing himself not to look down; letting his digits remember on their own. He wasn’t used to playing large instruments like it but he brushed that fact aside, focused on listening to the gentle pings.

 _“How much do you remember?"_  came a whisper that sounded like it was right over his shoulder despite the knowing the source was his pocket.

Corvo never had the chance to learn music by sheets or with a pair of hands to guide him when he was young; he spent hours plucking away at a half-rotten guitar his father had brought home for coin on street occasionally. The guitar wasn’t the best instrument to learn from, but the brief look of surprise and amused fondness on Jessamine’s face was worth the trouble of sneaking a lyre out of the music room to her room. Jessamine had laughed, genuine and endearing while his ears burned. She had him sit down to adjust his hold on the lyre, tutting with a grin.

He did not remember the name of the piece he was playing for Lydia Boyle but recognized enough of the nameless song to pin a memory on it. A surge of what felt like betrayal washed over Corvo, heavy in his throat and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He knew that it was one of the first titles his Empress had taught him and one of her favourites but it was also the only piece he could remember. All he knew was the melody and the rhythm, fingers dusting the strings faster with confidence he didn’t feel. Each gentle ping echoed with regret, once accompanied by laughter, whiskey and smoke, now widening the cracks in his chest.

For a moment, if he closed his eyes tight enough, Corvo could pretend that the music pouring from the speakers were from a little recorder propped on a bookshelf and the presence beside him was her, still with him and humming along the beat.

He refused.

“Enough.” he finally answered in a soft murmur. The pocket shifted, restless and silent, not replying.

There were upsides of wearing a mask, the Lord Protector reminded himself as he glanced down, feeling like he was watching a stranger play the harp.

Emily once asked if they could all perform a piece together when she found out he could play the lyre, when she barely reached his knees and her cheeks rose-pink. Jessamine’s eyes twinkled with mischief when her daughter told her of the plan, spent an hour plotting loudly about how they should drag Corvo out to the gazebo to play. The Empress left soon after, a kiss on Emily’s crown and a grin directed at her Protector. She smiled for the rest of that day and he found himself looking forward to that promise.

They never did.

He wished that he could at least recall the name of their favourites.

“Impressive,” Lydia spoke up, snapping him away from a dreadful pit he would had gladly allowed himself to drown in. The noblewoman sounded bored despite her compliment, but she had forgone crossing her arms to drop them by her sides. Dropping her guard, curious and attentive. “I’m surprised I don’t see you at the annual music festivals.”

 _“She observes people with as much care as she plays her music,_ ” his pocket told him, _“just as mindful as Waverly when she wants to be._ ”

The Lord Protector took a few seconds to juggle his words, settling for simple honesty. “Wasn’t interested.”

It wasn’t a lie. He learnt to play for coin, then his Empress and Emily, but never for an audience.

“There’s one in the coming month. Perhaps you should go.”

“I’ll think about it.” There wasn’t time.

Lydia hummed and started a topic on the various string instruments she had in the attic, but Corvo’s attention was dragged to two figures in red near the banquet table. He watched Esma lead Daud by the arm, clinging onto him like a wasted lover as she waved away a guard. Would she act the same if she knew the assassin’s true identity?

“Pardon me.” he interrupted Lydia gently, standing up from his seat by the harp and straightening himself. Disappointment seeped from her as he gestured to Daud’s direction, a slight bow of his head in the image of apology. “I have something to attend to.”

“I understand.” sighed the music enthusiast, hesitating for a moment when he offered his hand before placing her own in his. Lydia sighed again quietly behind her mask, annoyance and longing loud to his ears as he lifted her hand to the gold wires of his mask. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll be here, should you return.”

“Likewise.” Corvo nodded back and turned away, not sparing a glance back.

He paused, not in step but in mind still heavy with the familiar melody. He decided to call it _For Her_ , at least until he remembered its title.

As he approached where he last saw the pair, the former Lord Protector noted the absence of the grim-faced guard that was supposed to stand by the stairwell. It didn’t make much difference, simply an extra set of eyes cut away from the watchful gaze of two other guards and a music box Overseer nearby.

 _“Someone seeks your attention, beware._ ” hissed his pocket when he reached the stairs, the wisps of vibrant red at the curved corner of the steps leading to the second floor and Daud stood at the first few steps. _“One of them means you harm_.”

Corvo could see the tension in the other’s stance, how tightly clenched his left fist was and the faint glow of turquoise and gold peeking out of the leather. A wolf that realised it was about to enter a cave that could be housing something it might not be able take down easily. It was not fear but out of not wanting to go through the trouble.

Esma might not be the target but it was a near perfect opportunity to head upstairs.

Standing at the doorway, the Lord Protector noticed the Overseer leaving his post for his direction, the interior of the music box clanging loudly. Daud seemed to pause at the sight of him and the noisy announcement of an unwanted visitor, reconsidering his decision. Swiftly, Corvo shifted to face the Overseer, angling himself so that only Daud could see his hand gesturing for him to go on.

“Sir,” greeted the Overseer when he came in speaking range. Corvo nodded in return and felt the rat shift anxiously by his breast, her warning echoing. Music from the cursed machine caused splitting headaches from a short distance, Corvo rather not find out how long he would last at this proximity or if it affected little rats that knew too much. From the corner of his vision, Daud had irritatingly remained where he was.

“What is it?” Corvo asked with a sideways glance to the Abbey’s follower, not allowing anything that could be deemed suspicious drip into his words as he waved Daud away once more with more force. The older Serkonan stood his ground, wolf straining under the guise of flesh and scars before finally whirling around and stomping soundlessly after Esma Boyle. With the other gone, Corvo turned to face the Overseer fully. “I’m busy.”

The Overseer simply reached back to his belt, causing Corvo to tense up and ready to Blink away when the zealot drew his pistol. He didn’t. In place of the expected gun was a small box, dull maroon and overall nothing eye-catching. “A gift. The High Overseer sends his regards.”

Distrust spiked up at the name, the cautious part of Corvo hissing for him to slap the box away and leave. The rest of him, calm, sensible and deadly quiet reminded him that Martin had no reason to knock him out of the board, especially in the middle of a mission and when the King was so close to a Checkmate. With the next Empress disappearing before dawn and the Lord Regent’s assassination in the coming days, all that was left in the Loyalists’ path was the people in Dunwall, men still faithful to fallen leaders and the plague. Martin had no need to kill him.

Not yet at least.

Muttering a thanks, he took the object without hesitation and put it away in his coat while the other stepped away and returned to his post. The box was heavy enough not to be a live grenade, unless it was filled with multiple live grenades but Corvo brushed aside that thought with patience. He made his way in the opposite direction of the Overseer and the stairway, eyeing a secluded place to inspect the gift carefully when the rat twitched violently in his pocket with a hiss. “ _He dreams of her every night, wicked lips in a smile and eyes dark with lust. He shakes in her wake._ ”

“What’s wrong?” whispered Corvo, concern spiking up while pausing in step to carefully brush the shaking orb of fur by his chest however he stopped himself, only to face a newcomer. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, and I can help you in return.” the man told him, Corvo could barely understand him through the disfigured potato sack for a mask. Judging from the... interesting detail of the mask, Corvo was half-tempted to ask if the noble got it straight from the trash bin outside the Boyle Manor. “I’m a friend of Pendleton and I know of your mission but we can’t talk here.”

 _“He wants to worship her, yearns to kiss her and carve his name into her skin until all she can think is about him_.” White fur quivered under his fingers as he did what appeared to be a casual brush of his collar to others. Corvo was slightly surprised by the disgust coating her tone in layers of venom, _“and that is just the start._ ”

Corvo sneered at the knowledge, mirroring the little one’s emotions while a hand hovering over his blade. He tracked the potato-bag aristocrat easily, finding him in a quiet corner away from the chatter of the party. “I’ve done a great deal for your people, many that would land me in Coldridge but that’s not important. My name’s Lord Brisby and your target is - how do I put this - my lover ,” the man leaned in, voice hushed and hurried and the hints of desperation hugging his words. “I beg of you, let me save her. I know that she has done wrong but she can change!”

 _“He has a cage prepared, her name plated in gold and silk flooring._ ”

The Lord Protector stayed silent, eyes narrowed and the beginning of repulsion curling his lips.

“I won’t hurt her or anything. There’s a boat in the wine cellar, all you have to do is bring her to me and I’ll take care of it from there. I’ll make sure of it, she will be safe and happy and you won’t have to get your hands dirty. How about it?”

 _“It’s for her own good, he tells himself._ "

He should kill him, Corvo thought idly as he eyed the nobleman. There was a maid at the side of the room and a pair of aristocrats by the doorway but he could make it quick. He could disappear before anyone noticed, leaving a still warm corpse and nobody to blame. His gaze settled on the atrocious burlap sack of a mask, crude stitching and what was supposed to be a face. “What are you supposed to be.”

“Excuse me?” Brisby stammered, visibly taken aback. Surprised that his request isn’t taken immediately, the noble was used to having his every order fulfilled without question and Corvo couldn’t stop that fact from grinding his nerves.  

“Your mask.” Corvo gritted out, irritation dragging across his tongue and he casually shifted his weight, resting his right hand on his blade.

“Obviously, It’s a rat.”

A very quiet grumble from his pocket. _“No it isn’t_.”

“...Obviously.” echoed the Lord Protector dryly and eyed the ugly headgear. The mask resembled nothing like a rat yet Brisby sounded so confident in his fashion choice, Corvo couldn’t help but feel offended by it. However, that fact was not going to help him so he smothered his irritation to get back to business. “What’s her name?”

“So will you do it?” Brisby gasped and continued without waiting for a response. “Her name is Esma, dressed in a very appealing red tonight - ”

“I’ll think about it.” Corvo interrupted him, turning on his heel.

“I’ll pay you!” Lord Brisby called out to him, frantic hands grabbing fistful of his sleeve before he could leave. The flare of panic reminded Corvo of a man hanging by a noose over a swarm of rats. Either the rope got him or the mice did, the latter would feast either way. “A thousand coin, Sokolov’s finest batch of potion. I can even get you a ship to smuggle you out of this damned country.”

Corvo grunted in acknowledgement, pulling his sleeve away from the other’s grasp and walking away. He didn’t know which way he was going, but it was definitely away from that messed up individual of a man.

 _"There once was a girl who resembled her, laughing eyes and husky words. His visits were frequent, always seeking her and her alone. One day, she asked Brisby to take her away from life in the Golden Cat.”_ The rat sounded as though she was in pain, curled up in a shaking pale ball of fuzz. Corvo almost thought that he had somehow accidentally crushed her. _“He did. Last they heard of her was his servants dragging out a bodybag and some coin to Madame Prudence._ ” A squeak for air and she shuddered. “ _Sh_ _e actually believed he loved her_.”

He resisted the urge to go right back and slice Brisby's head off.

The easiest path to Esma was the servant’s stairway, now unguarded and he could slip upstairs with a hiccup in time. However it also meant he had to go back the way he came and Corvo didn’t know if he could steady his blade should the noble enter his sight again. His feet brought him back into the grand foyer where they entered, the Wall of Light buzzing, eyes burning into his back and constant murmuring from partygoers starting to set him on edge. Straying away from the foyer, he stepped into the side and stopped in front of short cabinet with a cluster of crystal lights on it. Daud was still upstairs as far as he knew, he will follow, cut Boyle down and leave by the balcony. It was that simple, Corvo frowned as he let out a breath. If there was one thing he learnt over the years, it was that nothing was that simple.

Corvo blinked hard before glancing around, tracking the guards and maids patrolling, then following blue wires from the Wall and ending at a machine in a closet. It wasn’t necessary but the alarm was also connected to the machine, a chance to lower the risk of being caught by a small army. The door however, didn’t give way when he tried the knob but he recalled seeing a glimmer of tinned metal on an Officer’s belt standing in the foyer. As he considered his next step, a quiet shuffle made him look down.

 _“What do you need?”_ asked the pair of bright eyes and dirty claws as it darted to hide in his shadow. The rat wasn’t part of his swarm, but he recalled Granny mentioning that they knew who fed them. They were willing to listen.

He didn’t think much about the rat’s question, focus aimed at the guard with the key and mindful of the maid who just entered the room and was dusting nearby. The key either led to the closet door or another room, Corvo could only hoped it was the former and wondered if he could get the officer to walk over here and ‘accidentally’ lose it. In the end, his pocket answered for him: “ _We need the Light gone._ "

The brown rodent squeaked an answer but Corvo didn’t hear it, only glancing down in time to see a glimpse of it scuttering away under a bookshelf and away from sight.

Huffing, Corvo eyed the guard and dipping into his mind. He dropped a plain, innocent question of ‘has anyone patrolled here yet?’ and a flicker of doubt that maybe the guard saw something odd near the vase and that innocent partygoer who was not suspicious in any way.

A hazy look of skepticism crossed the guard’s expression but he followed where he was willed, the key already being unhooked from his hip. Before he reached Corvo however, a man in a whale headgear stopped the officer with a hand the shoulder. A gesture towards him, mutters about a skull-faced man not being on the guest list and when the guard looked up, it was filled with intent. He assumed that this was the harmful one the rat mentioned then.

“Excuse me, sir. I need to check your invitation.”

Corvo paused in thought, gaze shifting from the officer’s face to the key by his hip. There was a brief idea of lying that he was Trevor Pendleton, but surely people would notice the abrupt change from the shrewd drunkard to a silent broad-shouldered man. He snorted to himself, perhaps he could get the guard to lie to himself. "Lydia Boyle knows who I am."

"Yes, but I'm asking you."

He glanced behind the guard, to the table at the side. A cup of champagne sat at the corner, the noble nursing it stumbling away. Huh. Worth a shot.

"I'm an agent of the Outsider," he slurred awkwardly, giving a vague wave of a hand, "here to ruin your day." It wasn't technically a lie.

The officer's eyes slowly narrowed at him. "...Well you're obviously a little drunk so I'll let that slide." 

Grudgingly, the man started to turn away when the Wall of Light flickered violently. It flashed once, blinding and shrill and drawing out startled gasps from the guest before it honked and the electricity died down with a hum. The smell of burnt fur and whale oil washed over the room, seeping from the closet. The officer left Corvo to rush over to unlock the door, swinging it open.

"Shit. A fucking rat chewed the wires." He heard the man mutter darkly while Corvo left the room in an attempt to create distance between the commotion. The Watch headed over, half of them if Corvo counted rightly. "We need a new fuse- Outsider's eyes, might even need to change the whole thing. Little fucker got fried deep inside."

 _We need the Light gone_ , the words hung in his head like a hanged man and Corvo stole a glance at his surroundings. The guards were distracted with the ruined machine, the lone Overseer testing the alarm only for it to answer with a pathetic cough and the partygoers busy murmuring about how even the Boyles were not safe from rats. A perfect opportunity.

His pocket shifted, burrowing closer to his heart as if trying to sooth his guilt. _"Don't let their effort go to waste."_

Clenching his fist, he acted. 

Slowing down time, Corvo Blinked up and behind a guard who stood watch by the grand stairs, grappling him by the neck. He briefly wondered if anyone would notice the sentry being dragged away into the shadows, catching a glimpse of flailing limbs before snatched away from sight. Before he remembered that not many people looked up oftentimes. He left the body in a closet, confident that the four silhouettes in yellow were far enough to realise the drop in numbers. At the edge of his Sight, two glowing outlines stood, relaxed and unaware. Good.

The pouch on his hip was too light, only a measly bundle of bolts and lint inside and sleep-darts used up. Corvo sighed. He had taken to using only the crossbow despite the upgrades Piero gave the empty gun hanging on his belt and he left his ammo belt to be unhindered by its weight. That and the fact he didn’t bother picking every corpse or slumbering body clean after subduing them. Setting his jaw, he headed to where he last spotted green objects in the rooms behind. Coin and antiques greeted him, valuable to all but him as he ransacked Waverly’s and Lydia’s rooms. Corvo cursed himself for not visiting Piero or Griff before the mission; unless he felt like pelting his enemies with pennies, all the coin was worthless in his hands and he didn’t like the idea of dealing arms with Daud. Bastard had enough of his making and Corvo refused to give the assassin the upper hand in this partnership no matter how temporary it was.

He counted the small bundle of bolts left in the pouch. Four, each for a guard before Esma Boyle’s demise. Taking a deep breath, Corvo began.

The first guard didn’t get to register anything, the end of a bolt poking out from the back of his skull. As the body fell, the second guard turned to the source of the muted sound. He met the same fate as his fellow Watch, Corvo snagging the corpse by the shirt to set it down quietly. The third was trickier but not by much, a few glass cases away from his fallen comrades and standing in front of a painting. The Lord Protector worked fast, Blinking behind the guard and sinking the third bolt into where the spine met skull. Quick and efficient.

The Boyles paid good money to soundproof the second floor, Corvo mused as he set down the still-twitching body. Walls thick enough to keep curious noises away from ears of partygoers ever eager for gossip. Lucky for them and him.

When he looked up, a beautiful young woman, dressed in a tailored suit of black, red and white ruffles with sharp eyes glared at him as though judging his actions. Corvo glared back. He could had easily subdued the guards in a chokehold, leaving them to snore instead a puddle of blood, but that would had taken too much time; every second closer to Esma finding something amiss and calling security on Daud.

 _“Vera Moray. In her prime, her beauty was frost that burned to the touch. Even now, she can still scorch when needed._ ” The voice from his pocket hesitated, subtle scratches to the cloth, _“sometimes she misses the days before, but would never give up her choice_.”

He refrained from questioning, simply nodding in agreement and unlocking the golden frame to carefully roll up the artpiece. He understood her insistence for tea and the odd trinket dusting her home a little better - though he rather not know too much lest insanity could spread. He made a note to get her something nice before leaving the manor. On closer inspection, perhaps Vera was regarding him more of careful indifference rather than disapproval.

“What the–” Corvo glanced to the side to see the remaining guard, finally noticing the corpses by the Lord Protector’s feet. Corvo Blinked right in front of him.

Mercy, he told himself as he shoved the guard against the wall. It was mercy to kill these men, let them die in battle rather than wake up later to lost of their jobs and homes to families. A factor Corvo didn't consider in his earlier missions. A similar mercy for Esma Boyle, death would be appealing compared to what Lord Brisby had installed for her. The blade missed its mark when the guard twisted away in time, teeth grinding and arms straining to push his assaulter away. Even so, it didn't matter with another shuffle of fabric, the struggles came to a slow, the man's sword falling from limp hands and the body followed suit.

Whiskers and a little pink nose poked out of his coat, the white rat peering at the door to Boyle's room. _"With every step, his tower crumbles a little more."_

Corvo said nothing, bending down to snatch up the fallen man's gun. A bullet to her head with be fast, loud but effective and they would be out of the manor in a blink. He could hear Boyle speaking when he neared the door, low and seductive and he couldn't the slight amusement bubble up at the idea of Daud with his pants down. It died down as quick as it came and he opened the door, found the noblewoman pressed up unsurprisingly close against Daud and the last bits of her purr came clear. "I'm sure you could come up with something."

"I agree." he interjected while his hands busied with reloading his empty pistol. Boyle tore away from the assassin, taking a few steps back and behind the man. Daud appeared startled if raising his wristbow was anything to go by. Corvo wondered humorlessly if he had waited a minute longer, perhaps he really would had caught the famous killer pantless. "Tell us what you have in mind, Daud." 

When the man didn't reply, Corvo shifted his attention to the shaking woman. This was the person who would sit the throne, live in the Tower and rip what was left of the Kalwdin family crest off the walls for her own flag. His lips twisted at the thought and he felt cold, frost licking up his skin and encasing his chest. He strode forward, ready to raise his gun between her eyes when a hand grabbed his arm firmly, pulling him back.

A hiss. "Think about what you're doing."

Corvo glared at him from the corner of his eye, gritting his teeth before ripping his arm out of Daud's hold. "Already have."

"Wait please! I'll give you anything!" Boyle begged as she cowed from him, backing away and stumbling against the bed frame. She didn't dare glance away, as if thinking Corvo would strike the second she took her gaze off him. She was wrong. Corvo had nothing against watching the life leave her eyes. "I-I have a daughter!" exclaimed Boyle, and Corvo found himself unwillingly pausing for a heartbeat, one that she noticed and continued to grasped the straws. "Please! She's only eight years old!"

The Royal Protector thought about what Emily did when she was eight: run around the Tower, fall asleep during lessons and sneak him sweets so she could reason that she wasn't the only one who ate dessert before dinner. Corvo eyed Boyle for a long moment, before reaching up and removing the mask. He made sure to wait, waited for the slow recognition dawn on Boyle's face and the shocked horror sink in as he took aim. "So did I."

He pulled the trigger, snarling as the bullet embedded the carpeted floor instead of Boyle's head after a hand yanked his astray. Corvo whipped around. Fury rose up to his throat and the frigid cold flared into something that nearly made him shove the gun under Daud's jaw and fire. "What?!"

"Killing her won't change anything," hissed Daud, irritation filtered through the whaler mask as he forced Corvo's arm to downward. He must had seen something on the younger man's expression, a warning from reckless anger. "Her death won't help Dunwall." Won't bring back your Empress. He didn't say it but Corvo could hear the unspoken words and he felt something tear at his insides.

 _"He is not wrong,"_   his pocket murmured solemnly and Corvo felt the urge to pick up the white rat, make her look at the man who caused so much death as she echoed, _"he is not wrong_."

Somehow, Corvo found the strength to smother the flames. Let them die down enough to reason, like a ship entering the eye of the storm. "It'll be a mercy compared to what Brisby has installed for her."

"Brisby?" both Daud and Boyle mimicked, but only the former pressed the subject, "What does Brisby have to do with this?"

"It doesn't matter." he informed them plainly while he let his pistol fall to the floor. Instead he unfolded his blade, staring dully at Boyle. "She's dead regardless."

"She's a mother."

"So was Jessamine. That didn't stop you." Corvo shot back effortlessly, a fact that was stale and bitter on his tongue. He felt Daud flinch. So the Knife of Dunwall could feel. "Nor will it stop me."

Daud didn't stop him as he broke free from the grip, the Lord Protector barely listening to Boyle's pitiful pleads. He was in front of her in a few strides, snatching her up by the blouse to keep her still and he angled his sword. The storm threatened to consume him, drag them into the sea and rest in the abyss. Corvo didn't want to hesitate, refused second thoughts but his blade held still long enough for him to hear Daud speak.

"What would your empress say if she saw you now?" The words were quiet and hung in the air like waiting rain, but they were more than enough for Corvo's shoulders to stiffen and call a feral growl from his throat. The master assassin found himself slammed against the wall, a tight hand and sharp steel upon his neck. The previous fear that struck the assassin had been crushed to dust, now replaced with fatigue and resentment. If he tried, he could feeling his sins crawling down his spine. "You say that it's a mercy, like you have no choice." Daud didn't back down, pressed into Corvo close enough to smell the blood on his coat, "But I know what you're doing. It's always easier to kill when you tell yourself that."

"Shut. Up." the younger Serkonan grit out, dark eyes flashing while the blade leaned dangerously closer. Never turn your back to the storm. "You know nothing."

"You're right," answered Daud, locking gazes with the other despite the touch of steel biting into him. A faint sense of déjà vu settled on him, they had fallen into a similar situation when Corvo confronted him in the base. At that time, he was baiting the other, hoping for a worthy fight to the death, however now he was trying to save another. Funny how things worked. "But I don't think she would want this."

Corvo glanced down when Daud gestured at Boyle behind them. She had collapsed to the floor when Corvo released her for the assassin, but had yet to make a move for the door. Perhaps she knew she wouldn't make it even if she tried. He turned his glare back at the other. Without a word, he shoved the man against the wall with a sneer of disgust when Daud didn't resist the push. He stalked back to Boyle, ignoring how she didn't bother trying to get away. He bristled. "Stand up." 

He had to haul her up onto her feet. The idea of her being Empress was maddening but the idea of her dying on her knees didn't agree with him either. "Tell her I love her." Corvo frowned at Boyle's whimper, the choked sobbing caught behind her lips. She seemed to had accepted her fate, slowly removing the fine porcelain that served as her mask with trembling hands. A lovely face greeted him, damp with tears and pale with fear. "Please, tell her." 

The blade's tip hovered over her chest, ready to pierce her heart and they would be done and leave. There was no other choice, Corvo told himself as Boyle closed her eyes. Dead tonight or an Empress tomorrow. Yet, he pondered: maybe he simply wanted to kill her. What he left behind in the hallway was proof enough, the rush of adrenaline that came with it. Not exactly blood lust, but still a risk he couldn't afford. Corvo reached up to his breast pocket to brush the small shape, to prompt words of an outsider to steel his decision. The pocket remained quiet, much to his discontent and he held his sword for a painful moment longer, before lowering it to point at the floorboards.

"What does Brisby want?" Daud question came when what was an eternity had past, muffled laughter and music drifting under them breaking the silence.

For a heartbeat, Corvo didn't want to reply. The storm had died down, taking what it willed away and leaving him empty and numb. He pondered on falling into the Serpentine and let himself drown, just to see if it would hurt. "Her." 

A tired sigh. Daud was where Corvo left him, slumped by the wall. A glance told him that the assassin had pulled off the mask, if Boyle recognized him, she didn't call for the guards. Not like it would had made a difference. Daud looked as worn out as he sounded, older than he should be. "Elaborate, Corvo."

"Does kidnapping and hiding her away sound familiar?" Despite having no sting in his bite, the witch observed how Daud twitched at the remark anyway. "Cage her, rape her. I don't care but it's- "

"A fate worse than death. I get it."

"So tell us what you have in mind, Daud." Corvo huffed with scorn, a mockery of his greeting when he entered the room. The memory of the pinned maps Daud kept in his study, the circles that marked Dunwall Tower's outline. The man had years of experience in twisting fate to his needs when compared to Corvo. "You're a creative man, sure you've got something up your sleeves."

"I have an idea."

The two looked over at Boyle and she stared back steadily, tears wiped away and arms wrapped around herself. "You need me out of the picture and he wants to take me away, right? Let him, then I will kill him and go." She went on before either of them could cut her off, "I won't come back, had been saving up to migrate out of Dunwall before this. It would give me a cover reason and divert attention from you. I will even pay you."

Daud narrowed his eyes. "Without your sisters?"

"Waverly would never leave, thinks Gristol's the safer isle compared to the others. Lydia, maybe but she would rather go to Morley. I was planning for Tyvia."

"And your daughter?" Corvo asked with a confused frown, brushing aside the quiet voice that half-heartedly berated him for letting her live if she was going to abandon her child.

Esma glanced away, almost looking embarrassed. "Her father's lives there. My sisters know enough to send her there." 

"Brisby has a boat in the cellar." Corvo commented.

"Oh. Well that's a surprise. He probably bribed the guards to let him bring it in, the creep. Luckily I happen to know how to sail."

"How convenient." Daud grunted, crossing his arms while Boyle offered a shrug. He turned to the other man who had gone silent. "What do you think, Corvo?"

Corvo didn't give an immediate answer, choosing to busy himself by folding the sword away and picking up his fallen firearm. Esma started to tense up until the man finally sighed, facing away from them. "Let's get this over with."

The Serkonans donned their masks while Boyle pressed painted lips to an envelope - Daud had read through it for any trickery, handing it back with an expression of forced neutrally - she had prepared years ago, setting it gently on her bedside table and taking a bag of coin. They made their way to the cellar without problem, the noblewoman bouncing off and dismissing any questions as she led the way. They stopped at the entrance of the wine cellar, Esma setting a hand on the lever to open the gate with nervous tension. "This is it."

"Brisby won't expect you to come willingly," the Lord Protector stated as he checked the area. The said man was alone aside from the swarm of rats at the other side of the basement, waiting on a small boat much like what Samuel handled. "I'm going to carry you, play dead or something."

"I need a knife." she said in matter-of-factly and Corvo eyed her with interest. "I have a gun but it's rather loud..."

Beside him, the master assassin released what could had been a muffled chuckle as he reached to his belt. Before he could hand it to the noblewoman however, Corvo halt Daud's hand with his own to address Esma.

"If you come back for the throne, Boyle." He left the rest of his warning incomplete.

"I won't." she reassured him, understood him perfectly and Corvo stepped away to let Daud pass her the dagger. It slipped neatly into her pocket and she doesn't say anything when Corvo hoisted her over his shoulder, until they were past the iron gates and heading towards Brisby. "I'm sorry," Esma whispered into his back, his posture stifling by the slightest but steps never faltering. "I didn't know."

The Lord Protector heaved a full-body sigh, stopping in front of Brisby. "I know." he told her as he passed the to-be Empress into her stalker's arms. Apologies were useless at this rate, even if Boyle didn't have any control over how Burrows spent her funds, she had to leave the stage either way. Corvo was only thankful that it wasn't by his hand. "Watch your back." he said to Brisby, loud enough that Esma would heard from her place by the noble's feet.

As he watched the boat leave, iron gates raising and falling, the space next to him flickered and Daud huffed. "So that's it."

"We leave by the gardens." the Lord Protector informed him, turning away.

"There's a door here that leads out as well."

"Don't feel like swimming with hagfish, though you're welcomed to if you insist."

Daud snorted at his comeback and drew his sword when the swarm of rats headed their direction, only to sniff curiously at their boots. He raised a brow when Corvo's coat let out a chirp, a white rat peeked out of a pocket to squeak at her brethren. What the fuck. "You have a rat on your person."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Did you forget there's a plague in the city?" deadpanned the assassin, wondering how long Corvo had the rodent with him. Since they met, a small voice told him, recalling the ball of white Corvo had retrieved after their duel. Maybe even before that.

"Humans spread the plague just as well, mind you." Corvo sniped, a little defensively.

"The rats started it." The master assassin watched with a mixture of uneasiness, distaste and a slice of awe when the rats scrambled over the other man's boots and attempted to climb up his pants. One of them made it up to the pant pocket, sniffed it before sliding down when Corvo lightly brushed it. The rest of the swarm scattered and followed as Corvo ignored Daud, choosing to check a door that the rats hissed about riches. Gold ingots, whale oil tanks and precious ores. The only thing relatively useful were the potions, but he took an ingot and a large River Krust pearl anyway.

"There's more in that room," was his explanation as he shoved the valuables into Daud's arms, heading up the stairs for the exit. 

"I'm not taking payment."

Corvo huffed, about to throw a biting remark when a distant clock chimed, muffled by the walls of the cellar but still clear enough. It was late, they had to go. "Then leave it."

He took point up the steps, murmuring an excuse when he startled a serving maid. Daud followed a few feet behind, never too close in a pretense of them being strangers. They made it out of the manor and into the gardens when the alarms began to sound, screaming into the night. Unfortunately, the City Watch had doubled at some point without their knowledge. They discovered this when they turned a corner and stumbled upon a whole squad.

"Gonna need you gentlemen to remove your masks, sir. There's a killer on the loose."

They shared a look for a moment before Corvo chunked a grenade at the squad and Daud swore at the other's impulse. The ticking bomb drove the shouting group back, splitting in half to avoid it. Similar to the other's example, Daud tossed a bottle of chokedust at their feet and hooked an arm around Corvo's waist. A tranversal brought them up a ledge that would allow them to climb the buildings, Daud growling a warning when he felt Corvo claw at his arm.

"Do you want me to drop you?" he snapped during another hiccup in time as he tried to wrap them to the relative safety of the rooftops. He eyed a guard below, one quick to recovered from the panic and was frozen in the act of firing his pistol at where they previously stood. The roofs would hide them long enough for a getaway but even then there were always Tallboys to worry about.

"I'm capable of Blinking myself."

"Mine can stop time." Daud appreciated the difference with the slightest touch of pride.

"A warning would had been nice." bristled the Lord Protector but the struggling stopped, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled close.

With a huff, Daud brought them up and away from sight. Corvo immediately twisted out of his hold, landing with a low hiss like a disgruntled feline. With a closer look, Daud could see how the other was favoring his uninjured leg - he caused that, Daud realised numbly and suppressed the surge of guilt that rose up. The injury didn't stop Corvo from throwing down another grenade however, Blinking further away from the edge wordlessly. Sighing, Daud turned away and called for a whaler. "A small motor boat along the Serpentine, likely heading deeper into the District. Two passengers, one Lord Brisby and Esma Boyle. Make sure the man's dead and she's alright." he instructed briskly, taking off his mask as the whaler left to perform the duty. He turned back to see Corvo looking across the canals, at one of the many abandoned houses. "The Flooded District's the other way, Attano."

"There's something in that house," or so the white rat in his pocket said, Corvo was inclined to believe her after all they had been through, "and what makes you think I'm going back with you?" 

Nothing, everything, Daud was tempted to point out how the other man's ankle was still hurt.  

"You don't have to follow." Corvo said over his shoulder as he steadied himself. He stood over the edge of the roof, looked down to the patrolling Watch down below and at the Tallboy heading their way. In a Blink, the Lord Protector was on top of the unlucky Tallboy, folded blade shoved between heavy armor for the flesh beneath. From there, he Blinked and dropped down onto another guard nearby, one that had strayed away from the squad and stood in the dimly lit bridge.

Daud had to admit, Corvo made taking out a Tallboy alone look easy. He didn't know whether it was the reckless abandon or straight up skill that Corvo possessed, it was impressive nonetheless. Exhaling slowly from his nose, the master assassin weighted his options. The mission was over until the other needed him, plus there wasn't an actual contract to follow. Still.

"I'm getting too old for this." grumbled Daud as he stepped off the tiles.

Most of the guards had relocated themselves around the Boyle Manor, hunting for the Boyle and her assaulter. It left the other side of the river empty, if you didn't count the weepers. The stench of sick and blood was strong but the Lord Protector continued into the building, taking out weepers with care. Bullets would gather too much attention and he had no intention for close combat, making a point to cut the wandering beings' throat from behind. The sound of a corpse hitting the floor didn't seem to bother the weepers, a sound they must be used to hear.

_"It's close, we are close."_

Corvo grunted, almost reaching the top floor when a groan came from behind him and a body crashed into him. He snarled and wrestled the weeper off, eyes widening at the distressed squeal the rat let out. The weeper coughed wetly, black liquid landing on the side of his mask before it abruptly slumped against him. He shoved the body off, spotting Daud reloading his wristbow. "You followed."

"You forgot to check the rooms." Daud told him with a shrug, stepping over the fallen weeper. Corvo glanced down at the body, noted the empty sleep dart in its back and the shaky intakes of breath that wrecked its frame. Alive yet not quite living. He ignored the man's choice, heading up the stairs after the other. At the top floor sat their reward, washing the room in purple and disembodied hissing. The bodyguard took the rune, running a thumb across the carved lines and the world shivered and sighed as one. The room turned dark and they waited for the expected appearance of the young man, yet nothing happened. The Lord Protector shifted uncomfortably, about to speak up when he felt a chin rest itself on his shoulder and the owner chuckled softly at his ear.

"Enjoyed the party, Corvo?" the Outsider began as his greeting, scrutinizing tilt of his head knocking lightly against Corvo's. Black eyes jumped and settled on the older Serkonan beside him. "Daud."

The said man glared. "Bastard."

"Is that what you dreamed of," The Outsider turned his full attention back to his most recent Marked, words low and smooth like velvet reserved only for Corvo to hear, "all those months in Coldridge waiting for your executioner? Wealth, beautiful women in the latest fashions, laughing and drinking Tyvian wine?"

The deity paused, as if waiting for a reply. A rarity, if Daud is honest while Corvo slid off the mask and flipped off his hood. "You're the Outsider, you tell me."

While nothing betrayed the ever constant indifference of the Outsider's expression, the air seemed to move around them. Like soundless laughter. "And what of the host, Lady Boyle? She supported a tyrant, the Lord Regent. Lived in opulence while the people starved to death and live in fear of plague. Now she'll live out her days, month after month, year after year, far away, even as her fine clothes wear into tatters and her silken hair gets dull and gray. Plenty of time for reflection."

Corvo frowned and glanced back at Daud, the former wearing a look of confusion while the other grimaced. 

"Or so I thought." The barest hint of surprise coloured the Outsider's tone, regarding Corvo with a sideways look of consideration. "Instead she will spend most of her life on a ship. A pirate ship to be exact, with her new lover while her daughter grows into a fine lady who prefers tavern swill to wine." Corvo blinked slowly, not expecting that outcome and neither did the deity it seemed. Yet the mention of Boyle's daughter, alive and well - unlike his own - made his chest grow tight, the what-ifs and could-had-beens plaguing him for a heartbeat before the Outsider continued. "Lady Boyle will die happy, a fate that she doesn't often share with the other Esma Boyles, simply because of you." A pause, pale lips curling into a smirk. "It always ended with her gone or in a cage until now. Interesting."

Corvo grunted, unsure if he could muster an response. Even with the thick coat on, he could still feel how cold the Outsider was. 

"And you certainly ruined that man's day, agent of the Outsider." the Outsider commented with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, earning a cough from Corvo and a constipated look from Daud.

"Oh." The world shuddered as the god leaned back, and Daud believed the interaction was over, when both the Outsider and Corvo turned to look at him. "And you. Is this where you start moralizing, Daud?"

"None of your business."

The Outsider tutted him, like a child had done something foolish but it was expected. "What do you _really_ think you will gain from helping a man who was ruined by your own hands? Forgiveness?" The deity raised the first guess with what could had been glee, Daud felt himself tense. "Gratitude? Or perhaps something more?"

Daud opened his mouth for a retort, spit an insult and defend himself but nothing came out. Typical Outsider bullshit. It didn't matter, the Outsider hadn't bother to pause to begin with. The fucker. "You washed your hands of violence with the Empress' blood, as though it would help cover up the countless many who you brought to their end. Yet, you are here. Willing to follow another who has taken your old ways because of your newly found heart. I truly wonder, Daud, what's stopping you from adding to the red that Corvo has started?

"Why stop the man from killing Boyle, when you could had done it? You already have two under your blade, a third ruler wouldn't matter."

The Outsider sunk into the shadows, swallowing the dark and returning them to the real world. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over them, Daud dared a glimpse at the other after feeling Corvo's gaze burn into him for long enough. The Lord Protector looked at him blankly, gaze meeting his. They eyed each other as the Outsider's words fell into place, before Corvo wordlessly turned and Blink away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I feel bad for making a rat die to wreck the shit out of the wall of light? not at all.
> 
> Thank you all for the kind comments AND THE LOVE FOR THIS TRASH (like wOW WHERE DID YALL COME FROM?) Extra hugs to FlockOfRhys, Pepermint_t and AlexanderElliott for reminding me i needed to update this! I actually had like half of it done in school but I got distracted (read - lazy) and forgot qwq
> 
> HAPPY early BIRTHDAY AlexanderElliott YOU GET TO BE OLD LIKE ME HHAHAHA!!! Hope you have an amazing week (maybe i'll update again on ur bd idk ;w;)
> 
> Yeah I know there isn't a harp in the Boyle manor but i wanted an excuse and if there was we all know that lydia would totally swoon. I know that Havery Smith said that giving Boyle to Brisby is "she probably wrapped that pathetic adoring creep around her finger." but our serkonan killers don't know that so they think about the worse that could happen. Also, Esma's letter probably said something dumb like hey bitch xoxo or something really sad, idk.
> 
> I've been playing Bioshock infi, Transistor (I cried) and Battleblock theater so some of the quotes here were inspired by them. The churning sea part especially was the intro to BattleBlock and i swear that game has The Best Intro i have ever seen in my life. Check it out here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVJeQoXgwWQ
> 
> Also very important!! Wimex had drawn an amazing piece of fanart of chapter 8 that place without a name! It even has a tiny Corvo and Outsider there!  
> http://lady-yuna7.deviantart.com/art/No-name-part-of-The-Void-608188834
> 
> Alternate reply from Corvo when Daud rejected the pay:
> 
> "Then stick it up your ass." 
> 
> (I realised that Corvo is very, very salty in his sass.)   
> I promise 100% martin in the next one, plus heather cuz i need my battle-scarred puppy and more phat bird


End file.
